


Chiral

by BoundLight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Demon!Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Michael is a dick, Prisoner of War, Reincarnation, Soulmates, Torture, Violence, demon!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoundLight/pseuds/BoundLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossposted at ffnet. </p><p>After watching humans find love in the oddest places, angels have decided to look to hell to find their soulmates. When Michael finds Dean, he decides to claim him as his own. Dean has other ideas, especially when he meets an angel named Castiel. Michael is not amused, and will do everything in his power to keep them from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete and will be posted in its entirety with a chapter a day. 
> 
> Note: Chapter One is a prologue, and while it gives details as to the universe in which we find ourselves, it is not required reading should you wish to jump straight in with the characters we know.

**Chapter One**

 

Michael straightened his robes and strode down the hall towards the door he knew his brother stood behind. He wore a white robe with gold trim that almost shined in the filtered light coming in from the ceiling.

 

As he walked all of the activity in the hallway and joining rooms stopped, the angels dropping their eyes respectfully as they stood stiffly at attention.

 

Michael didn’t bother to cover his smirk; it was one of the perks of being an archangel.

 

He glanced up at the sky light above him, and watched garrisons of angels training in the sun. It warmed his grace considerably to see it; Heaven should always be prepared for attack.

 

He tore his eyes away as a large oak door loomed in front of him; with a small gesture the door swung open, revealing his brother Gabriel busily watching the lesser angels in the garden.

 

“Must you stand there, brother?”

 

Gabriel turned with a smirk playing on his lips. “You must keep track of the little ones, brother.” He turned back, watching the sky. “If they can’t keep up an adequate defense we may find ourselves in the middle of another war.”

 

Michael scoffed. “Another war? I doubt we’ll be facing another war. Not with the young ones keeping an eye on Earth all the time.”

 

Gabriel laughed. “So you’ve heard about that! I was wondering, Michael. You so rarely mingle with the others.”

 

Michael struggled not to roll his eyes. It was always hard for him to remain aloof and cold when the other archangel clearly never cared to behave accordingly. “You should not be ‘mingling’ either, Gabriel. Your station is above their own, you should act accordingly.”

 

Gabriel scowled, his eyes once more lost among the flying legions above them. “You can act superior to them all you want, Michael, but I will not. They are my brother’s as well.”

 

In an instant Michael was beside him, forcing him to stumble back a step; his glare cut through Gabriel like ice. The archangel instantly put up his hands placating. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. Let’s go inside, hm?”

 

Michael stepped back to allow Gabriel to pass him.

 

Once inside Michael seemed to calm down.

 

Gabriel sighed in relief, and tried to keep his gaze from darting up to the skylight above them whenever a shadow passed over head.

 

As the door behind them swung closed a small garrison touched down, frowns gracing their faces as they watched Gabriel walk away.

 

The youngest angel stepped forward and turned his back to the door. “Come on, brothers. Let’s fly.”

 

A tall angel beside him huffed out a breath, his wings twitching in agitation. “Why bother, Sraosha? We’ve completed our drills for today.” 

 

“Would you rather do nothing, Hamaliel?”

 

“No, Sraosha. You know better than that.”

 

Sraosha ducked his head. “I apologize, Hamaliel. I meant no offense.”

 

“I know you didn’t.” Hamaliel laughed, and wrapped an arm around the young angel’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his raven black hair. “You always speak so formally, Srao. Sometimes I think you forget who you’re talking to.”

 

“The loudest of all my brothers?”

 

Hamaliel adopted a thoughtful pose. “The most… 'awesome' of all your brothers.”

 

At this the angels around them began to scoff, pushing Hamaliel good naturedly, and grabbing at Sarosha’s robes to pull him away. He ended up in a beautiful blonde angel’s arms. She fussed over his collar as he struggled to push her hands away. “Iofiel! Stop!”

 

Iofiel smiled and pushed him into another angel’s arms. “Hold him Jehoel.” 

 

Jehoel’s arms tightened. Iofiel smoothed down Sarosha’s robes, refastening ties that had come loose throughout the day. “You only want us to fly so you can show off more, little brother.” She chided. “Just because you’re the most graceful is no reason to give the rest of us extra work.”

 

Sarosha flushed and looked down. “I’m sorry, Iofiel, I –”

 

“Oh hush, darling.” She nodded to the rest of the garrison. “That’s enough for today. Now, who’s up for some fun? Machidiel, Liwet, lead the way.”

 

This seemed to please the angels immensely, and together they walked towards the heart of Heaven, resting their wings while they could. 

 

As they walked, Sarosha kept his eyes constantly searching their surroundings, stretching his grace out around them to check for any threat to his garrison. 

 

Content that they were safe, he considered the angels that he considered to be his family. It was true that all of Heaven’s angels were his brothers and sisters, but in his heart he held some dearer than others. Secretly Sarosha always wondered if they felt the same for him, but their actions always made it clear that he was loved.

 

Liwet was always there to explore with him when he was too afraid to ask for company. He looked up to the others and didn’t want them to always think of him as the poor defenseless youngling he was. Liwet never treated him like that; he was always pushing ahead, searching for the next thing to do. 

 

Jehoel was like a big brother, always looking out for him, and read to catch him when he fell, but also there to tease and torment him to no end. Sarosha wasn’t sure what he’d do without him. 

 

Hamaliel was his first friend, and to this day his most cherished. They shared everything together, accomplishments and failures. When Sarosha needed to spar, Hamaliel was his partner. When he needed to relax, Hamaliel stubbornly refused to let him continue pushing himself into exhaustion. Whenever Sarosha forgot to take care of himself, Hamaliel was there to remind him. 

 

Iofiel was beautiful; lovely. Inside and out. She constantly bothered him to eat more, to groom his wings, to tighten his armor, to tuck tighter as he fell. Sometimes it was damned annoying, but no matter how much he groaned at her attention, deep down he cherished the fact that she loved him enough to care.

 

In the beginning, when he was first assigned to this garrison, he felt that Machidiel didn’t like him. The huge angel was always silently watching him, with a tight frown on his face. Sarosha wasn’t sure what he did to anger his brother, but he was too afraid to ask. Instead he did his best to avoid doing anything to anger Machidiel. Then one day while he was learning to fly a new drill, he clipped his wing on a tall building and plummeted downward. He braced himself for impact, as he’d been taught to do early on, when suddenly he was rising up above the clouds and into the golden sunlight. He’d open his eyes and found Machidiel, his savior, holding him close as they flew. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, and silently thanked him. He knew from then on that Machidiel wasn’t angry with him, he was worried about him. Sarosha began making a point of sleeping near him whenever their missions forced them away from home.

 

And Gabriel… Gabriel taught him to fly. 

 

As they walked Jehoel’s hands held a bit of his robe loosely as if to reassure himself that Sarosha was there, as Machidiel lead the way through the crowds. 

 

Sarosha peered out at the throng of angels, some walking, more flying, and tentatively reached out his grace to feel as they did. Hamaliel laughed and swatted his arm. “Behave, young one!”

 

Iofiel groaned. “Children.” She said testily. 

 

Hamaliel glared.

 

As they neared the heart of the city of Heaven, the buildings cleared to allow a perfect circle, filled with beautiful trees and bushes. Within there were hundreds of small lakes revealing the kingdom of Earth. 

 

Sarosha’s garrison quickly found a lake to sit around, and peered into the deep waters to watch as God’s chosen explored their planet. 

 

They watched for what the human’s would consider to be days. Finally Sarosha could take it no more. “I don’t understand. What are they doing?”

 

“Hm?” Liwet looked up. “What’s wrong, Saro?”

 

Sarosha leaned close to the water and pointed out a man and a woman, embracing. “I don’t understand.”

 

Iofiel smirked. “When a man and a woman love each other very very much…”

 

“No, no, I understand that. I don’t understand this. Look. Her soul is so pure, and his is… dark. But they are entwining together in harmony. They are both happy. But they are both so different.”

 

Machidiel placed a hand on Sasrosha’s back. “Have you ever heard that opposites attract?”

 

Sarosha nodded.

 

“Sometimes the same works for souls. No matter how different their souls appear, when they meet each other they are complete.”

 

They went back to watching the pool. 

 

Slowly Hamaliel looked up. “Why can’t that work for us?”

 

Iofiel’s head fell to the side in confusion. “What are you saying Hama?”

 

“If it works for humans, why can’t the same work for us? Demons. They are our opposite, right? Maybe we can only know love through the darkness of their souls.”

 

Machidiel frowned. “It would be very dangerous to even go down and check out your theory.” 

 

Hamaliel nodded. “I’m sure it’ll give Jehoel’s blade something to do.”

 

The corner of Jehoel’s lip twitched up. “It would be… interesting.” 

 

Lewit sighed. “Well if you lot are going, I better too. If something happened while you were down there I’d never hear the end of it. 

 

Hamaliel grinned widely. “So we’re agreed?”

 

Iofiel stood, and brushed imaginary dirt off her crimson robes. “Too bad we can’t invite Gabriel to join us. I’m sure he’d love the excitement.” 

 

Sarosha pushed himself to his feet and helped Hamaliel up. “Why can’t we.”

 

“Michael’d never let him leave the palace.” 

 

“But they’re both archangels. Gabriel should be free to go.”

 

“No little one,” Machidiel touched his back. “You never cross Michael.”

 

“Not unless you want to be burnt to a crisp.” Lewit sniggered.

 

Jehoel punched his arm lightly. “Be nice, he’s practically one of us.”

 

Lewit ducked his head, abashed. “Right, sorry.”

 

Sarosha’s eyes darted to the upper terraces of the palace that touched the sky in their display of majesty, and silently prayed for his brother Gabriel, wishing for his presence. “When will we leave?”

 

“Tonight. After lights out.”

 

**\----------**

 

Lights out in Heaven was only required of very few angels. For the most part everyone was given free range to be any where they liked, so long as they kept up with their duties. Most angels spent their time watching Earth through the pools, occasionally flexing their grace when they felt they could do good.

 

The soldiers were under stricter command.

 

They were required to spend ten hours within the palaces walls every day. After watching the humans for centuries many of the angels started referring to this time as ‘lights out.’ The time they spent here allowed archangels the opportunity to utilize their serves, while at the same time ensuring the soldiers did not tire out from drilling too much.

 

Sarosha and his family retired to an annex, and casually waited until they were forgotten amongst the rush and movement of their brothers. Machidiel gave a signal, and they moved out, using all of their training to move about unseen. Their first stop was the weapons locker. The weapons in here were generally used for sparing purposes only, but Jehoel was certain they would meet with heavy opposition once they reached Hell.

 

They each selected the weapons they were best at, and strapped on the brilliant silver and gold armor the angels of Heaven were known for.

 

Sharosha felt instantly better after he tied on his armor. It was like a second skin to him now, and he always felt vulnerable without it.

 

Finally ready, the once more employed their stealth as they made their way down the large hallway that led outside to a garden.

 

Clear of the building Jehoel took a deep breath. “Are we sure we want to do this?”

 

Iofiel looked at all of her brothers in turn. She paused on Sarosha. “Maybe you shouldn’t come, little one.”

 

Sarosha drew himself up. “No. I’m coming.”

 

She frowned, but eventually nodded. “Very well. Let’s go.” She unfurled her black wings, and launched herself to the sky. The others quickly formed up behind her.

 

After they left the outer most regions of Heaven, the tucked their wings tightly, and plummeted downwards.

 

They had never tried this before, with their class and rank they were not allowed to visit Earth unless Hell was once again waging war. As the clouds gave way to an endless expanse of sky, their eyes widened automatically, each trying to memorize the details of a world they’d only ever seen a reflection of.

 

Earth was beautiful.

 

There was a vivid green meshing with brown, white, and blue, each possessing too many shades to count. They saw buildings of all colors, reaching to the sky to great them like old friends, and as they came closer and closer they could begin to make out movement as billions of humans moved about their days, oblivious to the attention their actions garnered.

 

And then the ground came up to meet them.

 

For one terrifying moment, Sarosha closed his eyes tightly, and waited for an impact that would not kill him, but would certainly leave him crippled for many days.

 

It never came.

 

He opened his eyes, and saw that they were now moving through the Earth itself, through a thick crust, the painfully hot mantel, and then they were in a cavern.

 

They all pulled up short and marveled in the scene laid out before them. Hell had never been a pleasant place to visit, and this had never changed. Screams filled the air as souls were tortured somewhere deep below in the pits very belly. Chains could be seen stretched across the vast ceiling, each holding a writhing soul in place, as small black creatures moved across them, occasionally pausing to bite at wrists and shoulders.

 

Hamaliel winced and reached out a hand to touch a blackened soul hanging before him. Carefully he stretched out his grace to mend the poor things pain. The soul instantly snapped to attention, and began drawing away from his grace, moving as far back as its bounds would allow. 

 

Hamaliel moved closer, his hands closed around its face. “Shh, shh, its okay.” 

 

The soul’s eyes snapped open, and brilliant blue eyes locked on the angel. It began to scream. 

 

Hamaliel jumped back as every eye in Hell looked up. 

 

“That’s great,” Machidiel whispered harshly. “You just _had_ to touch the damn thing.”

 

Demon’s were leaping onto chains, running at them.

 

“Well excuse me,” Hamaliel whispered back. “I just assumed that our job was to bring comfort to lost souls.”

 

“Not when you’re trying not to be seen!”

 

“I thought the whole point of this _was_ to be seen.”

 

“Shut up! Both of you!” Iofiel snapped.

 

The demons were almost on them.

 

“Guess its show time guys!” Liwet said cheerfully. He drew his sword and leapt forward to attack.

 

The others hesitated for a moment, and then they followed.

 

As they fought, they did there best not to kill any of the demon’s; Heaven was not here to wage war, and demon’s healed much slower than angels. Fighting is much more difficult when you do not seek to kill, and your enemy does.

 

Despite this, they seemed to be winning, and many of the demons began to fall back. Hamaliel looked up cheerfully, when they heard a sound echo around them. They all turned to look, and saw the ground below them filling up with demon’s who’d heard the ruckus and wanted to get in on the fun.

 

Machidiel knocked the last demon off the chains and looked at his family hesitantly. “Maybe we were wrong in this. Maybe there is no one down here for us.”

 

Iofiel winced as she looked at him. “Perhaps –”

 

“Wait!” Sarosha shouted.

 

They all turned to him as below the demons began pulling out their weapons and started climbing.

 

Sarosha pointed at a tall demon with short scraggy hair. He was covered in blood and staring at Sarosha just as fixedly. “Him. It’s him.” The young angel tucked his wings and began to fall. As he got closer, other demons began jumping at him, their blades slicing through his robes, and knives cutting into his face. Sarosha paid them no mind as he worked his way towards the demon.

 

Worried, the others immediately leapt to his aid, trying to keep the demons off him. Hamaliel shook his head at how determined Sarosha was when his eye caught on a beautiful red headed demon snarling at him a few feet away. “I’m sorry, Saro, but –”

 

“I know Hama, go get her.”

 

Hamaliel nodded and began working his way to her.

 

As they fought the others gradually saw demon’s whose souls cried out to them. Souls that looked familiar in every way, and they just _knew_ they had found their match. With a renewed strength, they each battled their way towards their prey.

 

The fight reigned on for a long time, neither the demons nor the angels willing to give in, but eventually they were close enough. Each quickly sheathed their weapons and lunged forward, gripping their demons tightly as the ascended back up towards Heaven, and out of reach of the mob beneath them.

 

The demons in their arms fought viciously the whole way back, doubling their efforts when Heaven finally came into view.

 

The angels persevered, for each time they looked back at the beings in their arms, they knew they’d chosen correctly, and each couldn’t stop the swell of love and joy they felt within their hearts.

 

It was midday when they finally landed within Heaven’s gates. All of the activity stopped as the other angels saw the blood cascading down their brother’s faces. The five calmly walked towards their rooms, and the other angels were quick to get out of their way, looking on in horrified fascination.

 

Exhausted, Sarosha, Hamaliel, Iofiel, Jehoel, Liwet and Machidiel did not say much to each other as they parted ways heading for their separate quarters, but they all silently wished the others luck.

 

Sarosha’s quarters were the farthest away, and he made his way as quickly as he could, bloody footprints marking the path behind him. He struggled to hold onto the demon as he freed one hand to unlock his door and force the demon inside.

 

The second the door was closed and barred, he allowed the demon to leap from his arm. A silver knife appeared in the demon’s hands.

 

Sarosha dropped his weapons and spread his arms and prepared for the blow.

 

\----------

 

The sun rose the next day, golden sunlight glinting off the pristine gold fixings and filled the court yard with light. The other angels stared transfixed at the bloody footprints leading to five separate rooms.

 

Their commanders quickly walked over to see what was distracting the soldiers from their tasks.

 

After staring at the blood, Raphael cleared his throat. “What happened here?” He asked softly.

 

Uriel blinked, and was finally able to drag his eyes away from the scene in front of him. “A garrison went down to Hell and brought back demons.”

 

“What?”

 

“Soulmates.”

 

Raphael snorted and shook his head. “Demon’s cannot love. They will learn their lesson quickly. The rest of you! Get back to work!”

 

Quietly the other angels took to the air, each sending down a scout to listen at the five angels doors.

 

For three days all they heard were screams of pain, and crashes as various solid objects connected with walls. As each day passed, the noises slowly faded until all they heard was silence.

 

Uriel was sent to inform Raphael that the five angels had died. Sadly the angels grouped together and prepared to bury the poor fools who tried to find love in a Hell Spawn.

 

They slowly opened the doors and stopped in surprise.

 

In the darkness of the rooms the angels slept, each wrapped around their demon, each covered in blood, each completely at peace.

 

The demons had seen into their angels souls and they too had recognized their match.

 

The doors were quietly closed once more.

 

The next day Sarosha, Hamaliel, Iofiel, Jehoel, Liwet and Machidiel appeared in the courtyard. The other angels watched as they smiled and embraced, each lit with an inner glow. The demon’s appeared by their sides; each had wrapped their tails tightly around their angels wrist or waist, clearly unwilling to allow them to venture too far. The angels likewise seemed to be almost unconsciously shielding the demons with their wings.

 

It was beautiful in its imperfection. It was glorious.

 

Disgusted, some of the on looking angels turned away wanting nothing to do with this. Others looked around, locking eyes with their brothers, each wanting whatever this new thing was as well.

 

Soon flocks of angels descended to Hell. Hell flocked to meet them, vicious chains and blades at the ready; they were curious to see what would happen as well, but that didn’t mean rolling over and letting the angels get away with this without a fight.

 

Besides, it was terribly interesting to fight an angel.

 

The skirmishes were always brief, and not every angel always found his match. Those who did inspired hope within them though, so those who failed to find their other half would continue to go back as many times as it took to find one.

 

The denizens of Hell began to get used to angels appearing high in their sky and zeroing in on one point. The demons who left ended up being happy, so they didn’t protest too much, but they still did all they could to force the angels to fight as long as possible. Once the angels began to notice this trend they always sent a minimum of five angels down at any one time, no one ever came solo.

 

Used to this routine the demons looked on curiously when one angel touched down before them. He looked familiar.

 

The angel was beautiful. He had long blond hair that fell in gentle curls around his face, and his body looked like it had been carved out of marble.

 

There was a tail wrapped around his wrist.

 

From behind him stepped a demon they all recognized. He had been one of the first to be taken.

 

“Alistar.” They whispered.

 

“Alistar’s back?”

 

“It’s Alistar!”

 

The demon grinned cruelly at the demons surrounding them, and turned to face his angel with a slightly softer expression. “Are you sure, Sarosha?”

 

The angel smiled and leaned close, brushing their foreheads. Alistar grabbed his hand and lead him down into the pit.

 

The other demons were intrigued; all they could do was follow.

 

Alistar lead the beautiful angel to the center of his old workshop and fastened him securely to the rack in the center of the room. He ran a hand down the angel’s face. “Ready, darling?”

 

The angel stretched forward as far as he could and pressed his lips to the demons. “I love you.”

 

Alistar smiled and moved to a table behind him, selecting his favorite knife and holding it up to catch the light. He moved back in and went to work, his tail still caressing his mate as blood started to cascade down the glowing beings chest.

 

The angel jerked and twisted with every move of the blade gasping “I love you” with every breath he could draw.

 

The watching demon’s couldn’t help the slight burst of arousal, and smiled as they return to their rooms, selecting their favorite toys and preparing them for when the angels came back, eying the sky eagerly.

 

After all, turnabout is fair play and the angels could certainly take it.

 


	2. In Which Sam and Dean are Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Michael decide to take Sam and Dean.

Michael groaned at his brother’s incessant pleas.

 

He felt most of the angels who descended did so because they were unsatisfied with the love every brother held for another. But Michael _was_ satisfied, he _was_ content. “No.”

 

“But –”

 

“No archangel has ever taken a demon before Gabriel!”

 

“But _Michael_ ,” Gabriel whined, “We could be the first! Please! I just… want to find my match. You know how hard it is to find one. There’s no one in Heaven for me, brother, you _know_ that. And don’t worry; you probably won’t even see anyone you like! Just come and help me hold them off until I’ve found mine. _Please_ Michael.”

 

Michael looked into his brother’s pleading face and felt himself cave. He was always so soft with Gabriel. “Alright, alright.”

 

Gabriel grinned brightly and immediately grabbed Michael, dragging him down.

 

They plummeted quickly through the clouds, and down through the crust of the Earth, until they entered a vast open cavern that seemed to be lit by a dark red glow emanating from the walls. The ceiling was covered with hanging chains ending in fierce hooks; miserable souls gazed longingly at them; the archangels paid them no mind. Down below they could see the demon’s scurrying about, doing whatever it was demons did.

 

As the angels watched, the demon’s seemed to sense the ethereal presence and as one, they looked up.

 

Michael eyed the growing number of demons nervously. They should have brought more troops; damn Gabriel and his impatience. “Do you see your match yet?”

 

Gabriel frowned, clearly unconcerned about all the attention they were receiving. “No –”

 

He cut off abruptly as his eyes landed on a tall demon with shaggy hair and deep brown eyes. “Yes,” he breathed. “Him.”

 

Michael followed his gaze and his breath caught at the sight of the shorter demon standing beside his brother’s choice. The demon had green eyes; they flicked between the archangels before settling on the taller demon beside him.

 

Gabriel noticed his brother’s attentions. “I take it Mr. Didn’t-Want-To-Come found someone too, eh?”

 

All Michael could do was nod. “Him.”

 

And then the demon’s were on them, biting and tearing at flesh and robes.

 

The archangels fought viciously through the mob, working their way to where the two demons stood transfixed.

 

Gabriel’s choice seemed to be in shock. Michael’s was fingering a rather wicked blade.

 

It took them a while to finally make it over to their matches. As they drew nearer, the tall one seemed to snap back into himself; his eyes flicked black and with a snarl he launched himself at Gabriel, digging into him with sharp claws.

 

Gabriel cried out in pain and stumbled back. He fought every one of his body’s natural instincts, and refused to fight, instead he wrapped his arms tightly around the demon in his grasp and launched himself upwards.

 

As Michael watched his brother ascend, he felt a sharp pain in his side, and then a slick blade was pressed to his throat. Dimly Michael realized the slick wetness was his own blood that now coated the knife.

 

The beautiful demon snarled. “You took my brother.” The knife pressed closer, as behind them the other demons drew nearer. “Bring him back.”

 

Michael smirked. “No.”

 

He twisted the demon’s wrist sharply, breaking the bone and forcing him to drop the knife. The demon groaned in pain as Michael crushed them together and sprang into the sky. He and Gabriel circled each other once before quickly making their exit, each ignoring the shouts, curses, and blows raining down upon them courtesy of their new possessions.

 

\----------

 

Sam and Dean stilled momentarily when Heaven came into view.

 

Heaven was different from Hell in every possible way. Hell was built low. Buildings circled each other as they followed the paths that lead into various pits and caverns. In many ways Hell was like a village; it was designed to keep everyone close together.

 

Heaven sprawled up towards the sky in endless towers and spirals, all glinting white in the sun. It was open and vast and cold and lonely, just like the _things_ that lived there.

 

Dean shuddered and tried to draw away from the vision he was seeing, but all he met was the cold armor breastplate of the asshole dragging him along. He scowled at the impassive face and tried to turn to catch Sam’s eye.

 

His brother frowned at him as if to say: _I don’t like it either, but at least we’re together._ Dean nodded slightly.

 

They hit some kind of draft and the angel jerked him further upwards; fucking flying. He missed home already. Dean snarled and went back to clawing at the thing holding him. Sam smirked and followed suit.

 

It wasn’t long before they landed in the middle of some kind of building. It was square with the center open for flying in and out of, and surrounded by walls filled with doors and windows.

 

Dean was placed on his feet, and had all of two seconds to get used to the sense of vertigo before the fucking winged bastard was dragging him down a corridor in the opposite direction of Sam.

 

Dean’s fight began anew. “Sam! Sam! Let go of me you fucking bastard! Sam!”

 

“Dean!”

 

The angel ignored them, and continued to drag him along until they came to a large ornamental door at the end of the hall. Dean smirked. “Over compensating much?”

 

The archangel backhanded him hard; Dean slammed into the door. His eyes went black and he launched himself at Michael with a loud growl. The archangel caught him easily and shoved him through the door.

 

The demon twisted through the air and caught himself, landing gracefully on his feet. Despite himself, Michael felt rather impressed. The feeling vanished as he watched another glinting silver blade appear in the demon’s hand.

 

Dean grinned and decided to show this feathered pin cushion just _why_ he was in Hell.

 

His blade caught Michael between the armored plates and sliced easily through his flesh. The archangels knees buckled, and he strained to push the demon away, but Dean would not be dissuaded, and started to dig and twist the blade as hard as he could until Michael had had enough, and flung him across the room.

 

Dean’s back connected heavily with the wall; his ears were ringing as he struggled to remain conscious. Then the angel was on him.

 

Dean felt bones snap and skin tear as the creature above him beat into him. He tried to defend himself, but he was caught helplessly in the onslaught and could do nothing. Finally the angel seemed to get a hold of himself, and backed away.

 

Dean curled into himself on the floor, coughing up blood. His tail curled protectively about himself as he waited to see what the angel would do next.

 

Michael panted as he watched crimson stain his floor, while his own wounds were already healing up nicely. The demon glared at him from the floor. Michael shook his head at the damn things stupidity. It was clear there was no way he was going to win; he should give up.

 

Michael sighed and glanced out the window, and quickly made up his mind. “I’ll be back later. You aren’t to leave, understood?”

 

The demon narrowed his eyes defiantly.

 

Michael leaned in close. “Understood?”

 

“Bite me.”

 

Michael struck the demon hard. “This is getting old.”

 

Dean smirked and spat out a mouthful of blood. “What’s the matter princess, regretting ruining my day already?”

 

“You will learn obedience, demon.”

 

“Like fuck.”

 

Michael was on Dean in a flash, lifting him high and slamming him back into the floor as hard as he could; the tiles beneath the demon’s back cracked badly. Dean’s eyes slammed shut, his teeth clenched to keep from crying out.

 

Michael held him there until Dean met his eyes. “Do not try my patience, demon.”

 

“I have a _name_ , you know.”

 

Michael bit back a smirk. “What makes you think you deserve a name?”

 

With one final shove Michael rose gracefully and strode to the door. Dean watched him, tense and silent, until the door closed behind him. He waited a moment to make sure he wasn’t coming back before allowing himself to crumple against the floor, holding himself tightly.

 

His head felt heavy, he was lying in something wet and tacky, and the whole world was starting to spin. Dean groaned and lay back. He missed home already.

 

He could only hope Sam was having better luck.

 

\----------

 

Gabriel managed to get Sam into his room easily. He turned to bar the door when the demon hit him from behind. They went sprawling to the floor, and Sam began to viciously dig into him.

 

After a few minutes he stopped.

 

Sam was straddling Gabriel’s waist, his tail wrapped tightly around the other man’s throat cutting off his air. The archangel simply looked at him with his arms spread wide, accepting anything Sam dished out; he wasn’t even trying to block the blows.

 

Hesitantly Sam lowered his fist. Gabriel tried to smile.

 

Sam’s eyebrows shot up in realization and he quickly loosened his tail. Gabriel arched off the floor gasping before he shot Sam a smile and croaked. “Thanks.”

 

Sam stared at him in confusion.

 

“What?”

 

Sam glanced at his bloody knuckles. “Why… why aren’t you fighting back?”

 

Gabriel smiled kindly. “What’s your name?”

 

The demon blinked. “Samuel.”

 

“Well Sammy, wanna eat something?” Gabriel slowly pushed himself up, giving Sam ample time to leap off him. With a chuckle the archangel limped over to a wall and slid out a hidden drawer filled with various candy bars. He selected his favorite and held it out for the demon to take.

 

Sam watched the bar shake slightly in Gabriel’s hand.

 

Gabriel laughed. “I promise it’s not poisoned.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “Sometimes the humans get things right.”

 

Sam glared lightly and moved forward, grabbing the angel’s wrist to steady it before accepting the bar.

 

He bit the wrapper.

 

Gabriel laughed quietly and slowly reached forward. Sam’s eyes narrowed and he immediately pinned the angel to the wall.

 

Gabriel groaned when his head connected with the firm surface behind him. Sam crowded his space, glowering. Gabriel licked his lips apprehensively and reached forward again. Sam tightened his hold. The archangel’s hands found the candy bar, and he slowly pealed off the paper.

 

Sam looked at it in surprise.

 

Gabriel’s hands fell back to his side and he smiled reassuringly. “Try it.”

 

Sam leaned forward hesitantly, expecting Gabriel to jerk it back. When the bar stayed firmly in place, Sam bit off a piece; his eyes widened, and then his face melted into an easy grin.

 

Gabriel felt his heart clench and his free hand fell back to rest against Sam’s back. The demon tensed momentarily and then relaxed, leaning into the touch and biting back into the candy.

 

Inside the privacy of his head, Gabriel cheered.

 

He knew the fight wasn’t over, but seeing Sam like this made everything worth it.

 

Sam fell asleep that night curled around him. Gabriel watched his chest rise and fall with each breath until the light returned to the sky and the beautiful creature began to stir.

 

Brown eyes blinked open and locked with his. Then fists were flying and they were crashing around the room.

 

\----------

 

Michael strode down the hall like he owned the place, which was actually a fairly accurate description. He stopped at a small, bare metal door and knocked once before entering. The room opened into a large hall filled with lines of bunk beds, freshly pressed angels standing at the ready, lining the path.

 

Michael walked carefully down past the Sephrahim until he found who he was looking for.

 

Castiel was smaller than his brothers, but he made up for it with speed; none could out fly him, not even the archangels. Castiel stared straight ahead, his crystal blue eyes hard and focused.

 

This was why Michael had chosen this one; Castiel was the most loyal and devout angel he’d ever seen.

 

“Follow me.” He turned neatly and walked back out, not having to look behind to know Castiel was following him.

 

Once the door closed, noise signaled the others were once again moving and doing whatever the Hell it was the children did when they weren’t fighting or serving in the name of their Father. Castiel stood stiffly beside him, his eyes watchful.

 

Michael smirked. “There is a demon in my quarters. Go clean him up.”

 

Castiel nodded once and vanished as he flew off quickly. Michael grinned and decided to go for a walk and enjoy the feeling of the sun on his wings.

 

Castiel landed gracefully outside the ornamental door. He’d never been inside the archangel’s room before; he’d never even dared look at the door. And now here he was, poised to enter.

 

His hand rested on the knob, his grace flared briefly to unfasten the lock, and then the door was swinging open.

 

The room was destroyed.

 

The wall was cracked, many of the floors tiles were broken; shattered glass and ceramic from various wall hangings were scattered about the floor where they’d fallen. The velvet drapes that hung from the windows had been viciously torn down, and the luxurious bed in the corner had been over turned.

 

Huddled in a corner was the demon. His legs were drawn up to his chest, and his arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach, his tail curled protectively around himself. He was shaking.

 

Sorrow for the creature before him filled Castiel’s soul.

 

The demon’s head jerked up, and his eyes locked with the angel’s. They were the most beautiful shade of green. Then they flicked black, and he bared his teeth in a snarl.

 

For a moment Castiel was afraid the demon was going to lunge at him; he desperately didn’t want to cause this creature any pain when he was clearly in so much. But the demon seemed too injured to move; he merely scooted away a few feet until he encountered the wall, and curled himself into an even tighter ball.

 

“Go. Away.”

 

Castiel’s head fell to the side and he blinked.

 

The demon’s lip twitched up in a snarl. “I said leave.”

 

Castiel took a step forward, his hands opening unconsciously to show he was unarmed; he paused for a moment and looked at his hands in disbelief; he’d clearly spent too much time watching the humans. His attention flipped back to the demon. “I’m here to help you.”

 

The demon laughed bitterly. “By what? Killing me?”

 

“What is your name?”

 

The demon’s eyes narrowed and he lunged, hitting Castiel hard in the chest and knocking him to the floor. He beat into the angel as hard as he could, fists connecting with his jaw, throat and chest. Castiel kept his hands spread and he waited for the demon to tire himself out. He didn’t have to wait long.

 

Blood was trickling from his mouth, and down the side of his face, staining his white robes, and it was getting harder to keep his eyes open. The demon’s fists were becoming sluggish, and less powerful as he started to pant desperately. He raised his right hand once more defiantly and moved to bring it down hard.

 

Castiel easily caught the fist.

 

The demon’s eyes flashed for a moment, and he winced anticipating the blow. When it didn’t come the demon cautiously looked down at the angel beneath him. “Well?”

 

The angel’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

 

The demon’s eyes turned green, and he breathed a laugh. “Aren’t you going to hit me?”

 

The angel watched him for a minute, his stare unwavering. The demon pulled back as far as Castiel’s grip on his fist would allow. “Stop staring at me like that, dude. It’s creepy.”

 

“What is your name?”

 

The demon’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He swallowed. “Dean. It’s Dean.”

 

Castiel smiled faintly, pulling on the cuts on his lips. Dean winced sympathetically. “It is nice to meet you Dean, I am Castiel.”

 

Dean nodded, and sat back on the angel’s hips, licking his lips distractedly, his tail twitching in agitation. His eyes flicked to where Castiel still held him. “Hey, Cas, can I have my hand back?”

 

The angel’s eyes widened and he released the demon’s hand instantly. “My apologizes.”

 

Dean smiled brightly. Castiel’s breath caught. He shook himself, reminding himself that Dean was _Michael’s_ match, not his; it made his heart feel heavy.

 

Dean noticed the sudden change in his expression and cautiously touched his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His fingers brushed the angel’s cheek, dancing across bruises, and smearing streaks of blood back into the thick dark hair. Dean couldn’t help but laugh; he’d just beaten this angel’s face in, and now he wanted to know what was _wrong._ That was just… lunatic.

 

The angel caught his hand again, and moved to sit up. Dean had to scramble back and out of the way. Castiel frowned. “You are injured.”

 

Dean shrugged. “So are you.”

 

Castiel shook his head and rose to his feet tugging Dean up after him. He led the demon to a small enclosed area the demon hadn’t noticed before. It had a mirror, a chair, some counter space, and a great view of the courtyard outside.

 

Castiel motioned for Dean to sit down and left the room. He returned within seconds, carrying a large bowl of water and a white cloth.

 

Dean smiled cheekily and bypassed the chair, hopping up on the counter. Castiel raised an eyebrow, but moved in close, setting down the water within the demon’s reach. Dean smirked as Castiel dipped the cloth into the water and then moved between his legs, carefully cleaning and dressing all of his wounds.

 

Dean managed to avoid wincing for the majority of Castiel’s work. The angel was patient, and careful, doing his best not to cause Dean any more pain; the demon appreciated the sentiment.

 

When the blood had been cleaned off Dean’s face, Castiel stepped back and quietly put away the bowl. Dean jumped up after him and grabbed his hand. “Wait, wait, you’re still all messed up.”

 

A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “I was told to clean you up, Dean. I am unimportant.”

 

“Told to clean me – Wait a sec, unimportant? What the Hell, Cas?”

 

“Michael instructed me to come in here and clean you up.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and decided to let the ‘unimportant’ comment pass. “And you just do whatever Michael tells you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Dean stared back at him incredulously. “That is seriously messed up.”

 

Castiel cocked his head. “I am a soldier in God’s army. Michael is at a higher station than myself, therefore I must do as he orders. Now that I have completed my task, I must take my leave.”

 

Dean’s face changed instantly as he jumped forward, grabbing Castiel’s arm to prevent him from moving forward. “Wait, leaving? Why?”

 

Once again a smile graced Castiel’s face. “I am not permitted in this room, Dean.”

 

“But you are here! Just stay!”

 

“…Michael would be angry. I must go.” He gently pulled out of Dean’s hold and once more walked towards the door.

 

Dean looked around desperately for a moment; then he jumped forward once again, stopping Castiel’s progress. “Wait, woah, if he wanted you to, uh, ‘clean up’ then shouldn’t you fix the room, too?”

 

Castiel allowed his eyes to trace of the area taking in the destruction of the room that must have been beautiful at some point. “I… suppose that is true.”

 

Dean nodded happily.

 

Castiel moved first to the center of the room, standing over the cracked tiles. He looked at Dean questioningly. The demon shrugged and looked away. Castiel shook his head sadly and knelt down, pressing his hand firmly to the floor. Dean looked back curiously.

 

Castiel closed his eyes, and for a moment he seemed to glow. Then he opened his eyes and the moment broke. He stood, the tiles beneath his feet completely repaired.

 

Dean whistled softly. “Neat trick.”

 

“It’s not a trick; it is merely a manifestation of my grace.”

 

Dean smirked as he watched Castiel approach the large window, his arms spreading to repair the drapes. “So you’re grace can fix tiles and drapes, but not me?”

 

Castiel paused, and turned to face the demon. “When I use my grace like this, it often leaves residual effects. For inanimate objects, such as the floor or these drapes, it means nothing.”

 

Dean scoffed. “It isn’t nothing, Cas. It’s part of you.” He moved to the tiles and knelt, tracing fingers over the floor. “I can feel your presence here.”

 

Castiel struggled not too flush, and quickly gave his attention back to the drapes. He cleared his throat. “If I were to use my grace to heal you… Michael would be displeased. I would be leaving my mark on you, and you do not belong to me.”

 

Dean leapt forward viciously, pinning Castiel sharply to the glass. It cracked beneath his cheek. “I do not _belong_ to that prick. Do you understand me?”

 

Castiel winced as Dean twisted his arm behind him sharply. “Release me, Dean.”

 

“Do you understand me?”

 

Castiel said nothing. Dean wrenched his arm further, feeling the bone begin to strain. “Answer me, Cas.”

 

Castiel closed his eyes and struggled not to fight back.

 

Dean snarled and shoved Castiel away from himself harshly, stalking to the other side of the room. He came to rest over the tiles recently fixed, and sat down, once again drawing up his knees and curling his tail around himself.

 

Castiel watched him sadly before turning and fixing the window. It took only a few more minutes before the room looked pristine. He returned to the center of the room and knelt before the demon.

 

Dean refused to look at him.

 

Castiel ran a hand through his hair softly. “It was very nice to meet you, Dean. Now I must go.”

 

Dean scoffed quietly. “Yeah. Sure. Go.”

 

Castiel stood and walked to the door. When his hand touched the door Dean’s head jerked up. “Wait!” He turned hopefully. “Do you know what happened to my brother?”

 

Castiel’s eyed him curiously. “No.” At Dean’s dejected expression he felt the need to continue. “But I will find out.”

 

Dean struggled not to look too hopeful; after all, so far all of the angels he met were dicks. Castiel probably was too. He was just here because _Michael_ told him to be. He wasn’t here because he _wanted_ to be here. He was probably only being nice because he’d get in trouble otherwise. He probably would forget about Sammy as soon as he left. Resigned Dean turned away. “Sure.”

 

And he was gone.

 

Dean stared at the closed door for what seemed like ages. Then he turned back to the window and slowly dragged his fingers across the floor.

 

Feeling the warmth from the tiles he didn’t feel quiet so alone anymore.

 


	3. In Which Michael is a Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is a dick.

Gabriel stepped out of his room and into the cool air of the hallway. He breathed deep.

 

It wasn’t enough.

 

He quickly strode to the center of the giant palace where the building opened up into a large, open courtyard.

 

The air was crisp as it wound through all of the outer structures and across his wings. It was soothing. He closed his eyes and let himself be awash in it.

 

His wings twitched automatically when he felt another presence join him. He relaxed as soon as he recognized it. “Hello, Michael.”

 

The figure beside him sighed. “What are you doing here, Gabriel?”

 

Gabriel turned, a small smile playing on his lips. “You mean my brother, my all knowing brother, doesn’t know what I’m up to? How unusual.”

 

“Hush you insufferable loon.”

 

Gabriel smirked and began walking across the court yard towards a large fountain; Michael followed.

 

When they reached the fountain, Gabriel dipped his fingers in the water, playing in the subtle currents. “How’re things going with Dean-o?”

 

Michael’s eyebrow arched. “How did you know his name?”

 

Gabriel grinned. “You seem to have forgotten that his _brother_ is with me.”

 

“Ah. How are things going with the Hell spawn?”

 

“As well as could be expected. He’s been fighting every step of the way, and let me tell you, it’s a damn good thing we heal so well, or I would have died at least twelve times by now.”

 

“You mean you haven’t been fighting back?”

 

“No.” Gabriel shrugged. “He has to learn to trust me some day, and you can’t win trust through discipline and hatred. He has to learn that I love him, and this is the only way.” He looked at Michael hesitantly. “Why? Have you been… fighting him?”

 

Michael nodded. “Every step of the way. He needs to know that I will not tolerate insubordination.”

 

“He’s not a soldier, Michael. You cannot fully control him if you want him to be happy.”

 

“I’m so pleased you are so knowledgeable on the subjected, brother.” Michael growled.

 

Gabriel turned away with a sigh. “Nevermind. Listen, I need to head back; Samuel should be waking up soon.”

 

Michael nodded absentmindedly, and decided to head back too. Castiel was probably done by now.

 

His feet echoed off the floor as he walked back to his rooms. He tried to hide his smirk as the angels he passed would drop whatever they were doing and snap to attention. Soon he was standing in front of the large door that hid his room.

 

He laid his hands upon the door and paused; he felt the presence of another angel here. After a moment he shook his head; of _course_ he felt another presence. He’d sent Castiel here.

 

He opened the door and again his grace was assaulted with traces of the other angel. His eyes moved across the room. All the destruction he’d left had been repaired. His room looked beautiful. He wasn’t sure if he felt angry or not by this.

 

The demon sat in the center of the room facing away from the door wrapped in white bandages and curled around himself. Michael smirked. “Have you tired of fighting yet?”

 

The demon immediately leapt to his feet with a snarl. “No.” He lunged.

 

Something was different this time. As Michael threw the demon into the window, or knocked him into the drapes, he seemed to have a hard time getting back up, as though we was reluctant to move from where he fell.

 

Michael smirked. Maybe the little demon was finally learning.

 

As Dean lay crumpled against broken tiles once more, Michael felt a twinge of guilt that Castiel’s work had been ruined again. He made a mental note to tell the younger angel not to bother trying to fix up the room anymore.

 

Dean groaned and tried to push himself up.

 

Michael pressed a foot to his back until he fell back down. He sighed and walked towards the door once more. “I’ll be back later. You have until then to decide how this will continue. If you keep fighting, it will not end well for you.”

 

Dean spat out a mouth full of blood. “Get bent.”

 

Michael shook his head. “You will learn.”

 

Dean laid his head once down on the tiles after the door closed once more. It was almost worth it to deal with Michael just to know he’d be gone for a while. As he felt the warmth of Castiel’s grace in the floor beneath him, he allowed his eyes to close and peace to fill his soul.

 

\----------

 

After Castiel finished with his drills for the day, he quickly pulled off his armor and went searching through the large palace.

 

He’d heard stories of the archangel and how kind he was to his brother’s. He could only hope the stories were true.

 

First he looked for another ornamental door, something similar to Michael’s; after searching, he found nothing. He was about to give up and just ask, when he came to a heavy oak door.

 

There was something here, something that tugged sharply on his grace.

 

He moved forward and hesitated. He thought back to watching Earth through the pools in the garden, and raised his hand, knocking sharply on the door.

 

Within the room he felt something move, and then the door was opening.

 

The room before him was nearly destroyed; paintings had been punched out, window’s broken, tiles cracked, the bed was slashed open, and sheets and blankets had been bunched into something resembling a nest on the floor.

 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

 

Castiel jumped back; he’d completely forgotten Gabriel was standing in front of him. “I – uh..”

 

Gabriel smiled kindly. “Take a deep breath, I don’t bite.”

 

Castiel breathed deep and nodded.

 

“So, what are you doing here… Castiel, right?”

 

“You know my name?”

 

Gabriel smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

 

Castiel struggled not to blush.

 

“So what do you want?”

 

“I was wondering about the demon in your care.”

 

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so?”

 

“Y-yes. His brother was asking about him.”

 

A shaggy brown head appeared behind Gabriel. For the first time Castiel noticed the tail wrapped tightly around his waist. “Dean?” In an instant the tall demon was on him, lifting his arms, checking behind his head, pushing through the feathers of his wings. Finally their eyes met. The demon had liquid brown eyes that stared deeply into Castiel’s. “You smell like him.”

 

Castiel struggled not to fidget. “Your brother is worried about you.”

 

Sam grinned. “He always worries. But you… I don’t understand. You’re not the angel that took him.”

 

“No. Michael took your brother.”

 

“And you are…” He glanced at Gabriel questioningly. “Castiel?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So why are you covered in Dean’s sent, Cas?”

 

Gabriel laughed. “Cas?”

 

Castiel’s head fell to the side. “Dean calls me Cas as well.”

 

Sam waved a hand impatiently. “ _Why_ are you covered in his sent, angel?”

 

“Michael requested for me to take care of him after one of their altercations.”

 

Sam’s eyes flicked black. “Michael hurt him?” He growled. “That dick will pay.” He moved to step forward, but Gabriel stopped him.

 

The archangel frowned at Castiel. “He asked _you_ to take care of him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Gabriel pulled Sam back into his arms. “I need to leave you here, Sammy.”

 

The demon turned to him sharply. “What?”

 

“I need to have a… word with my brother.”

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he looked ready to fight the point. Castiel carefully took a step back. He was surprised when all the demon did was kiss the archangel lightly and reenter the room. With a smile Gabriel locked the door.

 

He touched Castiel’s arm. “Walk with me, brother. I’m betting Michael wants to see you as well.”

 

Castiel crossed his arms behind him, and obediently kept one step behind Gabriel. The archangel paused after a few feet had passed. He turned to look at Castiel. “Please walk beside me.”

 

Castiel eyes widened before he gave a brief nod, and moved to stand beside Gabriel; they headed off once more.

 

As they walked, Castiel held himself stiffly, his eyes darting quickly to the angels who stopped to mark their passage. Gabriel laughed. “Try to relax, Cas. Everything will be alright.”

 

Castiel risked a glance at him. “Cas?”

 

“What? The demons can call you Cas but I can’t?”

 

Castiel blushed. “No! No, of course you can.”

 

A deep laugh rumbled in Gabriel’s chest and he brought up a hand to ruffle Castiel’s hair. “I like you, little one.”

 

Castiel smiled. The stories about Gabriel were right; he felt his grace swell in happiness. Gabriel felt it too and winked.

 

“What is this?”

 

Castiel jerked to a halt. He hadn’t noticed when Michael moved to block their passage.

 

“Ah! Brother! I was looking for you.”

 

Michael narrowed his eyes at Castiel. “Why were you walking beside him, little one? That is not your place.”

 

Castiel stumbled back, his eyes dropping. “Of course, sir. Forgive me.”

 

Michael stepped forward; Gabriel halted him. “I asked him too, Michael. It’s alright.”

 

Michael considered Gabriel for a moment before nodding and stepping back. His eyes turned back to Castiel. “Go to my quarters and clean up the demon. Do not tend to the room. Go.”

 

Castiel nodded and took off as fast as his wings would carry him.

 

Gabriel frowned at Michael. “Why are you having another angel see to your demon?”

 

Michael shrugged. “It’s what they are for.”

 

“I thought they were for defending heaven against invaders?”

 

“Demons are here Gabriel. Clearly they have failed.”

 

“The demons here aren’t attacking.”

 

Michael laughed. “You didn’t see the one in my room then.”

 

Gabriel shook his head. “You don’t understand, Michael. It is your responsibility to see to Dean’s injuries.”

 

Michael brushed past Gabriel, heading to a large window over looking all of Heaven. “That demon –”

 

“That demon has a name.”

 

Michael glared. “That _demon_ must learn that I will not tolerate any kind of defiance. If I fix him up, he will assume I have a weakness, and believe that I _cannot_ hurt him. By leaving little Castiel to it, he will see me as the strength I am. It’s all about psychology, Gabriel. It is the same reason _you_ should not be putting yourself on the same level as the _soldiers_.”

 

Gabriel turned to the window, a dull pain growing in his chest. He crossed his arms behind him and watched as garrisons flew above them, flying drills high in the sky. As Michael spoke, he wished he was with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. In Which Dean Figures it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean figures it out.

The door clicked open and footsteps softly approached him. Dean opened his eyes and saw Castiel’s eyes boring into his. Dean tried to smile. “Hey, Cas.”

 

The angel knelt beside him and ran a hand over Dean’s face.

 

Dean winced as some of his wounds caught under the rough palm. He captured the hand and brought it to his chest. He closed his eyes with a sigh. “Here to fix me up, Cas?”

 

Castiel nodded.

 

Dean shook his head. “Just leave me. I think he likes seeing me covered in blood.”

 

Castiel’s eyes hardened and he tried to pull his hand away. The demon’s tail lashed out, and wrapped around his wrist tightly, pulling it back. Dean raised a hand and traced the skin around the angel’s eyes. “You have pretty eyes, Cas.”

 

Castiel’s eyes widened. Dean laughed. “In Hell, we have so many colors, you wouldn’t believe. There’s eyes like Sammy’s, dark brown, this one woman, Laura, she had these beautiful golden eyes, and then there are eyes like this guy Maura, he was an asshole, but he had these crimson eyes that would just capture you, you know? But your eyes, they’re just… like the sky, like crystals, they’re beautiful.”

 

The angel tried to hide his blush. “You forgot your own, Dean. That deep green? It reminds me of the trees on Earth.”

 

Dean grinned. “Earth? I like Earth. All those people; greedy, malicious, cruel; it’s fantastic.”

 

Castiel frowned. “They are also kind, and loving, and gentle.”

 

Dean’s hand moved to Castiel’s hair, burying itself in thick brown stands; he pulled the angel’s head down, and touched their foreheads. “Oh, Cas. So naïve.”

 

Castiel smirked. “Oh, Dean. So blind.”

 

They both smiled, as though sharing some secret joke. Then Castiel’s head jerked back. He looked at the door sharply.

 

The moment broke.

 

Castiel looked back at Dean, and carefully removed the tail from his wrist. Dean frowned, and settled for pressing it tightly to the angel’s side. Castiel tried to fight back a smile as he grabbed the demon’s hands and lifted him to his feet, slowly leading him back to the same room they’d been in before.

 

Once again Dean hopped up on the counter.

 

Castiel moved quickly and efficiently cleaning and binding Dean’s injuries. He found a particularly deep one cutting up under his rips.

 

Castiel stared at Dean questioningly.

 

Dean shrugged. “Glass.”

 

An eyebrow raised.

 

“I dunno. Some picture. Hey! Why do you guys have pictures? That’s like… a human thing.”

 

Castiel sighed and went back to dressing the wound. “They are beautiful. A creation of God’s children. They are to be cherished.”

 

Dean shrugged, his eyes dancing back to the rooms beyond them. “I guess they’re alright.”

 

Castiel hummed in approval. He caught sight of a thick bruise wrapping around Dean’s side. His fingers brushed it lightly.

 

Dean hissed and inched away.

 

Castiel’s fingers jerked back. “My apologies.” He hesitated. “Dean. Perhaps you should stop fighting Michael.”

 

Dean’s eyes jerked to Castiel’s. “What?”

 

“You can’t keep hurting yourself like this, Dean.”

 

“ _I’m_ not hurting myself. That bastard is hurting _me_. There is a difference.”

 

“Dean, he will stop hurting you when you submit to him.”

 

Dean leapt off the counter, and in an instant had Castiel pinned to the wall behind them. He gripped the angel’s throat tightly, his tail once more wrapped around his wrist, this time tight enough to bruise. Beneath them the wall cracked.

 

“I will _never_ submit to him, Cas. _Never_.” He moved closer, his eyes black, his teeth barred; Castiel struggled to breathe. Dean stopped, his face contorted in confusion. His hands loosened unconsciously as his nose tucked beneath the angel’s chin, moving up to his ear. “Cas… why do you smell like my brother.”

 

“You asked me to check on him.” Castiel gasped.

 

Dean jumped back.

 

Castiel slumped against the wall. It was so different to look at Dean now; one minute the demon could be so… familiar, he could look so kind. The angel could almost forget his true nature. But other times… other times, Dean looked vicious enough to torture a soul on a rack for days with a wide smile on his face.

 

“You saw Sammy?”

 

Castiel nodded. “He is staying with Gabriel.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s Gabriel?”

 

“An archangel.”

 

“Like Michael.” Dean snarled.

 

“No. Not like Michael.” Dean paused. Castiel rubbed his neck, feeling the bruise beginning to blossom. “Gabriel is… kind. He willingly interacts with angels like me. He treats us as equals.”

 

“An angel like – Dude, what the Hell does that mean?”

 

Castiel’s lip twitched up in a small smile. “I am a solider in God’s army, Dean. I was created solely to act as a pawn; to die in the name of a cause greater than myself.”

 

Dean’s eyes turned black as he stalked away. “Fucking angels.” He focused on Castiel; the angel flinched. Dean drew back in surprise, and forced his eyes green. “Sorry.”

 

He slowly crowded Castiel against the wall, giving the angel time to push him away. He curled around Castiel, pushing his head against his neck, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders, burying his hands in the feathers of Castiel’s wings, and using his tail to keep the angel in place. “You’re more than a fucking _pawn_ , Cas. God, you’re. You’re perfect. And… and don’t let people treat you like that, you hear me?”

 

“I hear you, Dean,” he responded softly.

 

“Good.” Dean sighed in contentment. Castiel slowly brought up his arms, wrapping them around the demon. Dean all but purred. “Why are you so warm, Cas?”

 

“It is my grace.”

 

“’s nice. Reminds me of home.” He smiled against Castiel’s neck, as he heard laughter rumble deep within the angel’s chest. “So tell me about Sam.”

 

“You’re brother seems to have taken a liking to mine. He was very unwilling to let Gabriel talk with me in private.”

 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, Sammy’s pretty territorial.”

 

“He was unsurprised that you were worried about him.” Castiel’s eyes slipped closed, pleased with the happiness radiating from Dean’s soul. “He was angry when he heard Michael hurt you.”

 

Dean snorted. “Typical. How’s Gabriel treating him?”

 

“Well. He had no injuries, no bandages, and he did not run away when Gabriel’s door was opened, and although he was displeased at being sent back into the room, he did go willingly.”

 

Dean nodded and leaned further in.

 

Castiel was torn. On the one hand, if he was caught in this position by anyone the consequences would be dire, but on the other hand, he’d never felt so complete.

 

He closed his eyes, and allowed himself this one moment of disobedience.

 

It was too soon when he disentangled himself. “I must go, Dean.”

 

Dean refused to meet his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. I know.” He glanced up, doing his best to appear innocent. “When can I see you again?”

 

Castiel smiled and brushed a hand across Dean’s cheek. “Hopefully under better conditions; I would prefer not to see you bloody and bruised.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes sarcastically and walked with Castiel out into the outer rooms. “You aren’t going to fix the room up today?”

 

“Michael requested that I leave it this way. I think he does not like knowing I’ve been here.”

 

“You mean he doesn’t smell you all over me?”

 

Castiel ducked his head as he laughed quietly. “Angels do not appear to detect scents as well as you demons do.”

 

Dean caught his hand once more. “Probably ‘cause you spend so much time flying up above the clouds. You need to see more than you need to smell.”

 

“That is very true.”

 

Once more Castiel moved to the door.

 

“Cas.”

 

The angel turned.

 

“What’s it like to fly?”

 

Castiel smiled. “You mean you do not know? You flew in.”

 

Dean grinned bashfully. “I was a bit distracted trying to claw Michael’s eyes out.”

 

Castiel smiled. “You should try it again under… less stressful conditions. Good bye, Dean.”

 

“I’ll see you soon, Cas. I promise.”

 

\----------

 

Michael took his time heading back to his rooms.

 

He distracted himself in the upper terraces, watching the sunlight glint off of clouds and crystalline structures. Is wings ached in anticipation; it had been so long since he’d flown for the pleasure of it, but now it seemed like the perfect thing to clear his head.

 

He jumped.

 

His wings caught the air quickly, and soon he was soaring high above Heaven; his brothers and sisters almost lost from sight.

 

Briefly he was reminded of the drills he had set for the younger angels, and he considered flying them himself.

 

His wings opened once more as he ducked and rolled, flying hidden through clouds, and then rising up above them. The sun caught in the moisture clinging to his long outer feathers, and he rolled quickly to dislodge it.

 

He had one maneuver left. He rose as high as he dared, and tucked his wings close, plummeting towards the ground. Once more he caught himself and returned to flying sedately above the world.

 

His mind naturally drifted to Gabriel; sometimes he didn’t understand his brother at all. He enjoyed being with the soldiers, laughing with the young ones, teaching the newborns how to use their wings, and doing things below his station; he still couldn’t believe he’d let Castiel walk beside him. And this thing with the demons was ridiculous. If you showed any form of weakness a demon would take advantage of it – it was a basic rule quickly beaten into every fledgling. At the same time something in the back of his head wondered if his brother could be right. Either way it wouldn’t hurt to try; he decided not to send for Castiel again.

 

Decision made, he landed, and began the walk back to his rooms.

 

He opened the door quietly, expecting the demon to come barreling at him. When no attack came, he lowered his arms, and entered the room cautiously. The demon sat by a cracked window, looking out into the sky.

 

“Hello.”

 

The demon jerked back, leaping to his feet. For the first time Michael allowed himself to really _look_ at him. He was covered in bandages; some old, others fresh. In a few place a slight darkening showed the blood just waiting to pour free. His face had nicks and bruises that seemed painful, and he was holding himself to one side, clearly unwilling to put weight on his left leg.

 

“Are you ready to stop fighting me?”

 

Dean’s teeth barred as he all but hissed. “Stay away from me.”

 

Michael did his best not to smirk. “No.”

 

“Why do you even want me here?”

 

“You are my match.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“ _No._ ” Dean turned his back on the archangel, settling himself on the floor in front of the window, pointedly watching the sky.

 

Michael frowned. “What are you doing?”

 

“Waiting for you to _go_.”

 

Michael shrugged. “I’m not leaving.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

Michael slowly walked over and stood behind Dean, watching the sky with him; he seldom took the time to watch the soldiers fly, but it could be quite distracting. He watched as a garrison moved as one unit through basic drills, working their way to harder maneuvers until they completed their tasks and landed. Michael frowned and noticed that large portions of the angels were sitting around glistening pools of water, laughing and chatting.

 

He made a note to up their work level. They clearly had too much free time.

 

Dean’s eyes never left the sky.

 

“Demons don’t fly, do they?”

 

Dean laughed shortly. “What gave you that idea, genius? The lack of feathers covering my ass?”

 

Michael’s hand lashed out, jerking Dean to his feet and then twisting him around to face him. His fist curled in his shirt. “Don’t take that tone with _me_ , boy!” He snarled.

 

Dean gripped Michael’s hand tighter, forcing himself closer. “Or else what? Gonna tell mommy?”

 

And the fight began.

 

Michael threw Dean across the room, smirking in satisfaction when he crashed into a wall, and fell down in a heap, surrounded by white dust and chips of drywall.

 

Dean pushed himself up with a cough, blood on his lips. His hands found a twisted piece of metal. He lunged at Michael, the weapon connecting sharply with the archangel’s head.

 

Michael fell back in surprise, a trail of blood staining his robes. No one had ever dared to strike him like that before.

 

Before he could recover Dean used his elbow to smash the large window behind them. Nimble fingers picked up a large piece of glass. He wielded it like a favored knife, unmindful of the damage his improvised weapon was doing to his own hand.

 

The archangel moved quickly, dodging blows he knew were not designed to kill, but to maim. He smirked. “Not willing to kill me, demon?”

 

Dean’s eyes flicked black and his grin made Michael falter. “Why kill you? No, I’m going to string you up, and cut you to pieces. Then I’ll watch you heal, like you do so well. I’ll turn your intestines into a fine string, and cut out your heart. I’ll have you look at them until they suck themselves back up, and then we’ll start all over again. Killing you would be much too kind, angel.”

 

Michael swallowed, and leapt forward, unmindful of his twisting gut. He caught Dean’s hand, jerking the glass sharply, causing blood to cascade down between them darkly. Michael jerked Dean’s hand up and caught his elbow in a firm grip, forcing the glass to press dangerously tight to the demon’s neck. He shifted his hand and a thin line of blood appeared. “I could kill you, demon. I could end your pitiful existence right now. Would that be _merciful_?”

 

“Do it.” Dean spat.

 

Michael released him, watching him fall back to the floor. He stood up, towering over Dean. He watched the murderous rage dance behind his eyes, but the demon did not move to rise.

 

Satisfied Michael walked away and found a piece of undamaged furniture to sit in as he watched Dean curiously.

 

Dean pushed himself up carefully, leaving dark red streaks on the floor. Slowly he attempted to curl himself into a ball, but it was clear from the way he was moving that he was finding it difficult.

 

With a few grunts, he finally managed it. He tucked his shredded hand to his stomach, as his tail wrapped itself tightly around his ankle. He pressed his forehead to his knees, hiding his grimace.

 

They sat in silence for a few long minutes. Finally Dean spat out another mouthful of blood and glanced at him. “Aren’t you going to leave?”

 

“Hmm.” Michael eyed the ceiling contemplatively. “No.”

 

“Great.” Dean muttered, pressing his forehead against his knees once more. “Wonderful.”

 

Michael continued to watch; he was curious to see what the demon actually did after their encounters.

 

After an hour he narrowed his eyes. “This is what you do? You sit there until someone comes to take care of you?”

 

Dean rubbed his head against his knees; it was becoming harder to focus. He opened one eye, and checked on the amount of blood he’d lost. He closed his eyes. Distantly he realized he should be worried. “You expected something else?”

 

“Yes.” Michael replied bluntly. “I figured you were so willing to attack me you must not be so injured as you act.”

 

Dean sighed, exhausted. “Sorry to disappoint.”

 

Finally a distant survival instinct forced him to rise to his feet. Habitually he moved to the room where Castiel always dressed his injuries. For a second he stared at his usual counter, before he turned just as abruptly and exited.

 

He eyed the room sadly, missing the other angel, and wondering where the _Hell_ he’d gotten the damn water and bandages. His eyes settled on Michael, but _no,_ he was _not_ asking _him_.

 

Okay, so cleaning the wound was out.

 

He looked at his hand and decided that no, he needed to bind it _now_. He moved to the large bed slightly hidden by a half wall, content to finally be at least partially blocked form Michael’s gaze.

 

It was clear the bed was never slept in; the blankets were set too perfectly, as though they’d been arranged flawlessly and then stapled in place. He touched the thick blanket lying on top of the bed before tugging it off and tossing it rudely behind him. The sheets beneath it were made out of a silky fabric that seemed to be the right material.

 

He quickly pulled the top one off the bed and after a few tries managed to tear it into several pieces.

 

This he was familiar with at least. It wasn’t always a pleasant process, but living in Hell taught you basic first aid, or it taught you death. Using his tail to help him hold strands in place, he managed to bind his hand tightly.

 

It was sloppy, and the cloth was stained red before he managed to tie it off, but it would stem off the bleeding for a while.

 

Blearily his eyes caught sight of the other bandages wrapped around his chest. They were still a pristine white, even after all this time. The knots that held them were still tightly in place, each done with such precision that Dean’s heart clenched.

 

Castiel.

 

Castiel, who had taken care of him; who had done more than just follow orders to patch up some demon, but had put so much of himself into the tight wrappings and expertly tied knots.

 

Castiel, who had refused to fight back, even when he had refused to stop attacking.

 

Castiel, who had smiled at him, despite the cuts covering his face and lips, even though Dean knew he felt the pain.

 

Castiel, who had visited his brother, when he knew he was under no obligation to do so.

 

Castiel, who despite everything, kept coming back.

 

Dean ran his hands reverently across the old bandages, careful not to get any blood on them, and he felt… love. And tracing wounds where he could no longer feel pain, bruises that were already fading, and cuts that had been neatly mended, he knew Castiel loved him too.

 

His eyes darted out to the main room. Michael had moved and was watching him closely. Dean’s hands froze, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He would do anything to keep this angel from his Castiel.

 

His eyes widened. _His_ Castiel? And since when was his first instinct to protect someone other than himself?

 

He laughed softly. Whoever said demons were incapable of love was clearly mistaken.

 

Michael’s eyes narrowed at him. The he strode forward and grabbed Dean’s arm, dragging him back to the small room he knew so well. His eyes landed on the counter before Michael shoved him into a chair.

 

Dean grunted at the impact, his hands automatically rising to his ribs. Michael quickly left the room. Before Dean could decide to stay or not, he was back, water and bandages in his hands.

 

He knelt before Dean, and began quickly binding his new injuries. Dean winced with every move, his face contorted in the effort to keep from crying out. Thankfully Michael was done quickly; as soon as he stepped back he allowed himself to pant roughly.

 

Michael raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

 

“No.” Dean scoffed. His eyes widened marginally when he realized he’d _never_ thanked Cas. His musings were cut short when his head connected sharply with Michael’s hand.

 

“What was that?”

 

“No.” Dean glared. “You can’t scare me Mikey-boy. I’ve spent my whole existence in _Hell_ , remember? There’s nothing you can do to me that I haven’t dealt with before.”

 

Michael took a step forward, and caught himself. He turned and stalked out of the room.

 

Dean watched the door for a few moments and then walked back to the shattered window. He closed his eyes as a cool breeze caressed his face, and then looked up at the sky, hoping to see Castiel somewhere in the clouds watching him too.

 

\----------

 

Sam stuck close to Gabriel’s side, mistrustful of everything this new place had to offer.

 

He kept his tail wrapped tightly around Gabriel’s waist, as his narrowed eyes darted across everything they passed. Occasionally he would snarl if another angel came to close, but Gabriel would quickly run a hand across his back and he would instantly calm. Many times the archangel would beckon the strange angel closer and introduce the two, knowing that eventually Sam would need to know more people, and hoping the frequent encounters would manage help the demon grow accustomed to open settings.

 

Many of the angels flushed when they stepped closer, flattered that the archangel knew anything of their existence, let alone introduce them to someone who had become so important to him.

 

Despite his openness with those around him, Gabriel too kept a watchful eye on anything that might harm his demon. He kept one wing partially extended, sheltering Sam, and ensuring they would not be separated.

 

Eventually they left the enclosed building and stepped out into the sun. Sam gasped and leapt behind Gabriel quickly. The archangel laughed. “It’s only the sun, Sammy.”

 

Sam blinked, struggling to look at it. “I’ve only ever seen it while watching the humans on Earth. It’s so bright.”

 

Gabriel smiled and cupped his hands over the demon’s eyes. “You mustn’t stare at it so fixedly, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

 

Sam smiled and ducked the angel’s hands, turning his attention back to the world around him. There were more angels here; he felt their eyes on him, although some were more obvious about it than others.

 

Gabriel smiled as Sam moved closer against him, and slowly began to walk through the crowds, fully intent on showing his demon all there was to see.

 

They were watching a small garrison fly drills when Michael joined them. He glared at Sam before dismissing him, focusing fully on Gabriel.

 

Gabriel frowned, but stopped Sam when the demon stepped forward threateningly.

 

“I need to talk with you privately, brother.”

 

“This is as private as you’re getting, Michael.”

 

“Gabriel.” Michael said, testily.

 

Sam’s nose twitched. He forced himself passed Gabriel. “You’re Michael, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, _Michael_ , why do you smell like my brother’s blood?”

 

Gabriel’s attention snapped to Michael. “Still, brother?”

 

“He will not learn his place.”

 

Gabriel carefully wrapped his arms around Sam, knowing a fight was coming. The demon was so absorbed in watching the other angel that he jumped in surprise as he was physically restrained. He quickly disregarded this and glared at Michael. “I want to see him.”

 

Michael was too surprised to speak.  
  


Gabriel bit his lip. “That’s not a bad idea. They can spend some time together while you fill me in on what happened.”

 

Michael nodded stiffly and began walking towards his quarters. Gabriel smiled at Sam as they followed.

 

When they arrived, Michael unlocked the door and ushered Sam in; he closed it firmly behind the demon.

 

“I took your advice and it did not work.”

 

Gabriel stared at him blankly.

 

“We fought, and he became injured. Rather than send for Castiel, I stayed. He did nothing but sulk on the floor until he realized no one was coming. Then he destroyed the bed attempting to do first aid on himself. Then he got this… distracted look on his face. I was worried he was finally bleeding out, so I bandaged him up. He still did not submit to me.”

 

“I never said fixing him up yourself would make him suddenly listen to you, brother.”

 

Michael scoffed. “Well what did _you_ do?”

 

“I never fought him.”

 

That was clearly not what Michael was expecting. “What?”

 

“I let him go at me until he tired himself out, and once he realized I wasn’t a threat he started to trust me.”

 

“So he thinks he’s your superior.”

 

Gabriel sighed in exasperation. “No.”

 

“So he recognizes your superiority.”

 

“ _No_. Michael, this is not some kind of war game. You need to see that you are equals.”

 

“But we are not.”

 

“And that, my dear brother, is why he still fights you.”

 

\----------

 

Dean stood at the window for a long time searching the sky. After a while his heart sank as he knew Castiel was not coming. He knew the angel was not permitted to enter without Michael’s permission, but his absence still stung. He wondered if the angel was missing him as well.

 

He’d lost track of time when the door opened. He still hadn’t recovered from his last meeting with the archangel and he was not looking forward to this next battle between them.

 

He froze when he smelled the air.

 

He whipped around. “Sammy?”

 

His little brother launched himself into Dean’s arms. “Dean.”

 

Dean laughed, holding his brother close, reveling in his warmth. “Oh, Sammy, I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too, Dean, “ came Sam’s muffled reply.

 

Dean felt a warm sinking feeling in his mind as he held onto his brother, the last few days of adrenaline filled fights finally catching up to him; he let himself drift in his brother’s warmth.

 

Sam sensed his brother beginning to fall asleep in his arms and slowly lowered them to the floor. He gathered Dean in his lap, pressing there bodies as close as he could. He wrapped his tail firmly around his brother’s back and chest, being careful to avoid putting pressure on wounds. He smiled when his brother mirrored him.

 

“What happened to you, Dean?”

 

Dean shifted closer, pressing his nose into his brother’s neck. “Mm. Fightin’ the good fight.”

 

“You’re covered in bandages, and you smell like blood.”

 

His brother stiffened defensively. “’s not _all_ mine.”

 

Sam laughed. “I’m not doubting your ability to hold your own, Dean, I’m just worried about how much longer you can keep this up.”

 

Dean shrugged sleepily and settled back against Sam. “You smell different.”

 

Sam smiled against Dean’s shoulder. “Gabriel. You smell like… Dean?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why do you smell like Castiel?”

 

Dean tensed at the angel’s name.

 

“Dean?”

 

“Hush, Sam.” Dean pulled away and glared at the door.

 

Sam followed his gaze.

 

Michael stood in the open doorway, Gabriel shocked behind him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. In Which Bad Things Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check the opening note!
> 
> Many bad things happen. Though there is a fair bit of good in there too. Which puts me in mind of my favorite Doctor Who quote, but I'll spare you non Whovians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE WARNED!!! SERIOUSLY, BE WARNED!!
> 
> Though this warning contains a major spoiler, so if you are not afraid of possible triggers, feel free to skip this and see where the story takes you. 
> 
> There was very nearly a non con scene in here, trust me you'll know where. BUT BE NOT AFRAID, I couldn't go through with it, I love Cas too much... So it may get intense, but be not afraid, no one is going to get raped.

Michael strode forward quickly. “Castiel?”

 

Dean and Sam leapt up together with the practiced ease that spoke of their centuries together. Sam quickly took in his brother’s bandaged covered form and moved to block Michael’s view of him.

 

Dean snarled from behind him. “Move, Sam. This is not your fight.”

 

“Like Hell its not, Dean. He doesn’t get to touch you like that.” His eyes turned black. “He doesn’t get to touch you at all.”

 

Michael circled them slowly, his eyes passing Sam to stare into Dean’s. “Why do you smell like the little one, Dean?”

 

“Because he patched me up. Tends to require getting close enough to touch.” Dean growled.

 

“No.” Michael mussed. “No, I think this is something else.”

 

Gabriel stood in the door, watching transfixed. Slowly his eyes widened in realization. Dean noticed when he caught on, his frown hardening.

 

Michael glanced at his brother. “So you’ve realized it too. That child has over stepped his bounds drastically this time.” He stopped his circling and began walking to the door.

 

“What are you going to do, brother?” Gabriel asked as Michael passed.

 

“Nothing he doesn’t deserve.” Michael said.

 

Dean ran forward, moving as fast as he could, but Michael beat him out the door, and Dean was left to claw at it uselessly. He turned sharply to Gabriel. “Open it.”

 

Gabriel swallowed. “There’s nothing we can do.”

 

“The Hell there isn’t!” Dean shouted.

 

Sam winced at his brother’s tone, all too familiar with the kind of pain Dean could bring down when angered. Slowly he stepped forward and placed a careful hand on Gabriel’s arm. “Please, Gabriel. Help.”

 

Gabriel brought up a hand, covering Sam’s warmly. He closed his eyes in defeat. “There is _nothing_ we can do. The only person with higher authority than Michael is God, and the only way to reach God is… to pray.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened as Dean slowly got to his knees. He clasped his hands in front of him. “Dear… God, I know I’m a… demon, and you don’t really ever listen to us, unless it’s to smite us or whatever, but Castiel is… he’s worth more than that, and he’s a better angel than Michael will ever be, and if you don’t save him,” Dean’s voice began to raise, “then I will hunt down you and everyone who ever aligned themselves with you and I will –”

 

Gabriel laid his hand over Dean’s mouth. Dean’s uninjured hand instantly snatched it away, clutching it in a vice like grip. Gabriel winced. “I think your prayer got a little off track there.”

 

“That’s how you pray, isn’t it?”

 

“That was more of a threat than a prayer.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“A prayer is more, _asking_ for help than _demanding_ it.”

 

The demons watched him blankly.

 

Gabriel sighed. “Listen, Dean. I don’t know what Michael’s going to do. See, the problem is he can do some pretty bad things when he wants to. And Castiel… is just the kind of angel to not fight him.”

 

“What?!” Sam gasped.

 

Gabriel sighed but Dean beat him to it. “Cas thinks that he needs to obey Michael, no matter what.”

 

Gabriel nodded. “Exactly.”

 

“Then let’s go get him!” Sam shouted.

 

Gabriel shook his head. “There’s no way we’d beat Michael, and he has enough followers that he could just sweep us out of the way if we got too bothersome for him.”

 

“We have to be able to do something.” Sam growled.

 

“No.”

 

Sam and Gabriel looked at Dean in surprise.

 

Dean held their gazes. “Whatever happens you can’t get in trouble, Sam. You and Gabe found each other, and you’re going to need to be able to live here with a threat looming over you.”

 

“What about you, Dean?”

 

Dean smiled crookedly. “I found Cas. And I’ll do whatever it takes to be with him.” He nodded to himself. “You guys need to go. I’ll wait here. Whatever Michael’s going to do, he’s going to want to do it in front of me. He wants this to break me. When he brings Cas here, we’ll find away to escape this place.”

 

“What if Michael wins, Dean?”

 

“Then we’ll be leaving another way.”

 

Sam grabbed his brother, shaking him lightly. “You can’t just say you might die and expect me to walk away!”

 

“Yes I can, Sammy.”

 

Gabriel didn’t look too happy about it, but he slowly pulled Sam against his chest. He reached out a hand and placed it against Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll try to help you if I can.”

 

Dean smiled. “Thanks, Gabe. Take care of my baby brother.”

 

He nodded. “I will.”

 

Sam looked brokenly at them. His gaze finally settled on Gabriel. “There’s really nothing we can do?”

 

Gabriel contemplated Dean. “I can help give you a fighting chance.” He stepped forward and laid one hand across Dean’s forehead, and the other across his heart. He breathed in and for a moment took on a bluish glow before the whole room was engulfed in a golden light. When the light faded, the bandages were gone and Dean was completely healed.

 

Dean looked down at himself and a laugh tore itself from his throat. “Won’t Michael be pissed when he senses you on me?”

 

Gabriel shrugged. “I guess I don’t care any more.” He laid a kiss on Dean’s head. “Good luck.”

 

Sam launched himself into his brother’s arms. “I’m sorry I said anything.”

 

Dean petted down his back soothingly. “It’s alright, Sam. It was bound to happen eventually.”

 

Gabriel allowed the brother’s to have a moment in each others presence once more before quietly escorting Sam out. He paused at the door. “If you want you can make a run for it.”

 

Dean squared his shoulders. “I need to be with Cas, and Michael is going to bring him here, I can feel it. I’ll wait.”

 

Gabriel nodded and shut the door softly behind him.

 

\----------

 

Michael walked confidently to the soldiers quarters.

 

Once again, when he entered all movement stopped as they stood stiffly at attention. He paused at the entrance and considered the two angels closest to him. “Uriel, Zachariah, with me.” They quickly formed up behind him.

 

Michael stepped forward once again. He walked passed the stationary angels, stopping in front of Castiel.

 

Michael watched the smaller angel for a moment, noticing the angel seemed to look through him, keeping his eyes down and his back straight, for all appearances the perfect warrior. Michael had looked into the angel before selecting him; he knew Castiel was considered Death on Wings by his fellows, being the fastest flier, and ruthless with a blade.

 

He never would have expected this from the smaller angel.

 

Without taking his eyes off Castiel he addressed the two angels behind him. “Restrain him.”

 

If Castiel was surprised, he did not show it.

 

Uriel and Zachariah quickly moved to his sides, each placing one hand on his shoulder, and another on his wrist; they both frowned, neither liking this. “Take him to my quarters.” Michael turned and left.

 

Uriel and Zachariah hesitated before following after, putting as much distance between themselves and the archangel as they dared. Confident they could not be overheard, Uriel squeezed his brother’s shoulder and whispered. “What is going on, Castiel?”

 

“You both love me, right?”

 

“Yes.” Uriel replied instantly.

 

“Of course.” Zachariah said indignantly. “We’ve always loved you, you know that.”

 

“Do you love me enough to let me go right now? To let me run?”

 

Uriel’s hands tightened briefly. He shared a look with Zachariah before nodding. They stopped. “Yes, we would.” He growled.

 

Castiel nodded to himself. “Because you love me.”

 

Zachariah loosened his hold, moving to stand in front of his friend, catching his eyes. “Where are you going with this, Castiel?”

 

Castiel blinked, and for the first time seemed to be coming back to himself. “That is why I can’t run. Because I love him.”

 

Uriel joined Zachariah, his eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what his brother was thinking. “Who?”

 

“Dean.” Castiel smiled in thought; he sobered immediately. “And I cannot leave without him.” He pushed between them easily and began walking down the hall after Michael. Uriel and Zachariah quickly moved to catch up with him.

 

Zachariah watched his little brother curiously. “Where would you go?”

 

Castiel faltered. “I do not know. I heard rumors of Sarosha, and how he went down to Hell with his match. They say he was, _is_ , happy.”

 

Uriel touched his brother’s hand softly. “I don’t think you’d be happy there, Castiel. You’re much to gentle.”

 

Zachariah shrugged. “When you’re not playing on the battlefield that is.”

 

For a moment the air lightened, and things went back to lighter days when the angels had nothing to do but play in the sun together. Castiel considered Uriel and Zachariah his siblings; he was closer to them, and his sister Anna, than any other angel in Heaven. He looked into their smiling faces and for a moment felt at peace, then the door came into view.

 

Michael’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why aren’t you holding him?”

 

Guiltily the two angels grabbed hold of him once more. Castiel paid them no mind.

 

Michael pushed open the doors and stood back for them to enter first.

 

Uriel and Zachariah stopped short when the saw the demon. Dean looked at where their hands held Castiel and took a menacing step forward. A smile tugged at Castiel’s lips. “Brothers,” he said softly. “This is Dean. Dean, this is Uriel, and this is Zachariah.” They both gave a slight nod.

 

Michael laughed shortly. “Now that we’ve all been introduced…” he drawled sarcastically.

 

Dean glared fiercely at the archangel and quickly strode forward to Castiel. Uriel and Zachariah watched him curiously.

 

The demon’s hands cupped Castiel’s face. The angel smiled faintly, his hands coming up to cover Dean’s. He pushed their foreheads together. Dean’s tail slowly traced up Castiel’s thigh and settled warmly around his waist as their lips met for the first time. The demon’s tongue quickly asked for permission, and then he set about memorizing the angel’s taste as quickly as possible.

 

Michael growled and moved forward quickly, grabbing Dean’s shoulder roughly and pushing him back. Dean snarled at him. Michael glared at Uriel and Zachariah. “Bind his hands.”

 

The two angels looked at Castiel’s impassive face, and then slowly joined his hands behind him.

 

Uriel frowned deeply, and shook his head. Zachariah risked a glance at Michael before placing his hand over Castiel’s crossed wrists. A deep blue band glowed beneath his palms, and when he withdrew heavy grey shackles were in place.

 

Michael smirked, pleased. “Leave.”

 

Uriel pressed a palm to Castiel’s arm quietly, before they departed.

 

\----------

 

Gabriel shut the door quickly and paused, leaning his head against it. When he turned around Sam was eying him defiantly.

 

“We shouldn’t have left.”

 

Gabriel shook his head, walking around him. “There was nothing we could do, Sam, you don’t understand.”

 

Sam snarled and whipped around, gripping the archangel’s wrists. “Then make me understand.”

 

Gabriel neatly broke the demon’s hold, and he returned it, gripping Sam’s writs tightly. Defiantly the demon’s tail whipped around Gabriel’s wrists, binding them threateningly. “You don’t understand Michael. He holds himself above all others. If he even suspected me of siding with your brother he would cast me down with Lucifer and the rest.” Gabriel cut his eyes away.

 

Understanding slowly crossed Sam’s face. He tilted Gabriel’s face up. “You’re afraid of residing in Hell?”

 

Gabriel pulled away. Sam’s tail darted forward, pulling him back. Gabriel pressed his face to Sam’s neck. The demon ran his hands through the archangel’s wings soothingly. “You know I would protect you, Gabriel. You have nothing to fear of that place.”

 

Hot breath traced Sam’s neck, but no answer came. The demon’s hands came up to card through Gabriel’s hair. “I like your hair long, Gabriel.”

 

The archangel laughed bitterly as he nuzzled closer. “Love the subject change, Sammy.”

 

Sam smiled softly. “When you let go of your fear, you will finally be free.”

 

Gabriel pulled back. “What would you know of freedom, Sam?”

 

The demon grinned. “What demon doesn’t?”

 

Gabriel’s hands traced lazy circle’s into Sam’s hips. Sam leaned forward and stole a kiss. “You mustn’t fear your family.”

 

“You haven’t met most of my family.”

 

“You know what I mean. Your brother needs help, _my_ brother needs help.”

 

“Samuel…” The rest of his sentence trailed off as he felt more than heard a scream pierce his very being. “We need to go. Now.”

 

He wrapped Sam in his arms and flew as fast as he could to a room he was coming to dread.

 

\----------

 

Once the door was closed Michael dragged Dean into the next room and threw him up against a wall. With a gesture two long chains attached themselves to his wrists. Dean glared at them incredulously and ran forward, fully intent on tackling Michael to the ground.

 

He made it three feet before the chains halted his movements.

 

Dean leaned as far forward as he could. “Coward.”

 

Michael raised a fist, and paused. He smiled viciously at Castiel and turned, walking out of his sight. Dean thrashed against his restraints, looking for any give, and then Michael was back, gripping Castiel firmly by the front of his robes.

 

“Why, demon?”

 

Dean’s eyes quickly checked over Castiel before he glared at Michael. “Why what?”

 

“Why did you fall for _this_?”

 

Dean’s eyes went black. “You know what, I’ve had enough of this shit. _I_ have a name, _he_ has a name. I don’t know what it is with you angels and assuming that just because you have a higher rank than someone means you can treat them like this. Without those people below you Michael, you would be _no where_.”

 

Michael sighed dramatically. “No, _Dean_. I can treat them like this. Its part of a thing called a _society_. You see, on the bottom rung are the people like _Castiel_ here.” Castiel’s gaze stayed firmly forward, watching Dean rather than Michael. “Castiel is on the very bottom rung. His life is fully expendable. He was built to die. Castiel is _worthless_. So worthless, he doesn’t even really need to be restrained; he won’t try to fight back. And that’s what you pick, Dean. You pick the worthless angel over the prince.” He abruptly pulled Castiel back sharply, and then threw him onto the large bed behind them. Caught off guard Castiel caught himself too late, and bounced sharply once before kicking out his legs for a better grip.

 

“Hey!” Dean shouted.

 

Michael darted forward and gripped Castiel’s throat, pressing him down firmly. “He’s worthless, Dean.”

 

He traced his fingers down from the angel’s throat to tangle in his robes, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises. He bunched the fabric in his fists, shoving it off the angel’s shoulders to tangle around his wrists with the grey shackles. He moved between Castiel’s thighs, forcing his legs fall on either side of his waist.

 

Castiel flushed and tried to squirm away. Michael dragged him back. “Look at him, Dean. You haven’t had the chance before, have you?”

 

He pressed his mouth down, biting Castiel’s shoulder forcefully, drawing blood. Castiel’s eyes squeezed closed as he struggled not to arch away. Michael smiled and captured his jaw in a strong hand and forced his head to the side to face Dean. “Look at him, brother.”

 

A small sound escaped Castiel’s throat. Michael shook him. “ _Look at him_. It’s because of him you’re _here_ , little one.” Castiel opened his eyes slowly, silently pleading with Dean to save him. He flinched at Dean’s expression.

 

Dean quickly schooled his features. He tried to smile reassuringly while above his angel Michael’s eyes glinted sharply. “Let Castiel go, Michael.” Dean said slowly.

 

“What’s the matter, Dean? I thought Hell would have hardened you.”

 

Dean’s features twitched, his eyes jumped from Michael back to Castiel’s pleading eyes.

 

“Michael.” Dean growled lowly. “I’ve spent centuries in Hell. I am one of its chief tortures. I am more skilled with a knife than any one you’ve ever seen. You know why you angels spend so much time preparing against a war with us? It’s _me_ you feathery bastards are afraid of. Leave. Now. Or I will destroy you. I will keep you alive until you _beg me_ to kill you. And you better pray to your father that I do.”

 

Michael laughed. “Maybe one day you’ll get your shot. But today? Today you are chained to a wall, and this little soldier is beneath me.”

 

“You will regret this day for the rest of your short existence, I promise you.”

 

Michael smirked and pulled back, tearing off the rest of the cloth covering Castiel’s body in one smooth movement. He grabbed Castiel’s face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You should have known better than to try and steal what is mine, little one.”

 

Suddenly Michael was knocked away. He saw stars as he reeled back. Confused he looked down at Castiel and saw his pristine white wings shielding himself.

 

Michael quickly moved back in, prying his wings open.

 

Castiel growled as he twisted, snapping his wings back out and towards Michael’s head.

 

The archangel expected the blow this time, and instead caught the wing. Castiel howled in pain, as with deft fingers Michael began breaking the wing’s delicate bones until they lay uselessly around the angel’s small frame. Castiel’s eyes were clenched shut in pain, his chest heaving uselessly, as he bit his tongue, refusing to cry out again.

 

Michael looked at Dean, laughing quietly. Without breaking his gaze, he laid one hand over Castiel’s heart, and rested the other on his hip. He twisted his hands sharply.

 

Dean flinched at the sound of Castiel’s voice. It was high, clear, and ageless. The small angel arched off the bed beneath Michael’s touch, writhing and trying desperately to escape his hold.

 

Michael finally looked back at him and pressed down firmly. Castiel clenched his teeth tightly as a golden light tried to force its way out of his mouth and eyes.

 

A tear tracked down his cheek as he lost the battle and a light filled the room, so painfully bright Dean was forced to bury his face in his hands.

 

When it finally cleared Castiel lay still, burns marking where Michael’s hands had held him. The archangel waved a hand and his bounds disappeared; Castiel fell back further into the bed.

 

Dean looked desperately for some sign that the angel was alive. He did his best to bite back tears when he found none.

 

Michael was watching him smugly. He rose smoothly, grabbing Castiel by the back of his head, dragging him up with him.

 

Michael walked forward until he was just outside Dean’s circle of movement. He dropped Castiel roughly, smirking as Dean’s eyes fell with him.

 

His hand reached out quickly and dragged Dean forward until the shackles cut at his wrists. “How beautiful is he now?” He hissed.

 

Michael shoved Dean back and moved out to the other rooms. With a flick of his wrists, his old robes were replaced with new ones that glowed in the light. Then he was out the door without a backward glance.

 

Once he was sure the archangel was not coming back Dean dropped to his knees, desperately reaching for his angel.

 

He couldn’t reach.

 

“Come on, Cas.” He panted. “Come on, please. Please.”

 

A hand twitched. Dean stared at it. “Cas? Please God. Please Cas. Just… just open your eyes, please.”

 

A small groan escaped Castiel’s throat. His hands shook as he tried to push himself up. “Dean.” He said softly.

 

Once again Dean’s hands shot out, straining against the chains. “Come on, Cas. Just come towards me.”

 

“Can’t Dean. Too… too tired.”

 

“Yes you can, Cas! Do this one thing for me, please. Please.” Dean had never begged this much in his existence, but he didn’t know what else to do. “Please God you son of a bitch.”

 

“Please don’t blaspheme, Dean.” Castiel groaned as he extended a hand and tried to drag himself closer to the demon.

 

Dean held his breath, waiting, hoping, silently willing the angel closer.

 

Castiel made it a few feet before he collapsed.

 

Dean’s hands shot out and found their hold on the angel’s shoulder. He quickly dragged Castiel back to the wall, giving himself plenty of room. He cradled Castiel to his chest, burying one hand in his hair and trailing the other along his side and back soothingly; he did his best to avoid touching the blood stained wings. Through out his ordeal in Heaven, he’d been hoping he’d get to hold Castiel like this, but this was not the way he’d wanted.

 

A tear slipped down his cheek.

 

Shocked, Dean’s hand flew to touch it; he’d never cried before, never.

 

Castiel made a small noise; Dean held him tighter. “Cas.” He murmured.

 

Castiel smiled, his eyes fluttering closed.

 

Dean whimpered. Castiel looked so broken right now. Dean knew he was a warrior; he knew the angel could probably kill him easily. But lying naked in his arms, with burns on his chest and broken wings lying behind him, he looked small and fragile.

 

Instinctively Dean tried to shield him.

 

Castiel slowly brought up a hand and cupped Dean’s face. As it began to slip Dean quickly caught it, pressing a kiss to each finger and then holding it to his heart. Carefully he leaned close, and pressed his lips to Castiel’s. The angel opened up beneath him, and Dean moved slowly, cherishing Castiel with every thing he had.

 

He hardly noticed when his lips began to burn. Dean pulled back, and sniffed, wiping his eyes, the salt from his tears burning him while they fell.

 

In the next room the door opened.

 

Dean clutched Castiel tightly to his chest; the angel moaned softly as his wings shifted.

 

Dean closed his eyes tightly; he’d been through too much lately. He couldn’t take any more pain.

 

There was a gasp. Dean looked up.

 

Gabriel stared at his brother with wide eyes.

 

In an instant Sam was beside Dean, pulling Castiel between them both to ease the pressure being placed on his wings.

 

Castiel’s head lolled against Sam’s shoulder.

 

Dean butted his head thankfully against his brothers.

 

When Gabriel knelt beside them, Dean growled lowly, drawing away. He was done dealing with angels.

 

“It’s alright, Dean.” Sam murmured.

 

Dean frowned at Sam and dropped his eyes to watch Castiel, refusing to look at Gabriel.

 

“I didn’t hurt him, Dean.” The archangel whispered.

 

“He was your brother.” Dean growled.

 

“He was Castiel’s brother as well.”

 

Dean froze. He finally looked at Gabriel. “I thought you angels were supposed to be… good. How could he… how could he?”

 

Gabriel frowned, and found he couldn’t answer. Instead he reached forward and touched Dean’s wrist. The shackles vanished. “Thank you.” Dean murmured.

 

His eyes traced his angel’s broken wings. “Why isn’t he healing?”

 

Gabriel laid a hand against Castiel’s chest, partially covering one of the burns Michael left. A soft glow emanated from the small angel.

 

Dean snarled and snatched Gabriel’s hand; the glow abruptly stopped.

 

Sam looked at his brother questioningly. “That’s what Michael did. You were going to hurt him.”

 

“No, Dean.” Gabriel said slowly. “I will never cause Castiel pain, I promise you.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Then what were you doing?”

 

“I was looking at his grace.”

 

“Why would his grace matter?”

 

“It is what keeps angels alive, Dean.”

 

“What’s wrong with his grace?” Sam traced Castiel’s face. Dull blue eyes watched him quietly.

 

Gabriel slowly replaced his hand, waiting to see if Dean would allow it. When he did, he pressed firmly, and once more Castiel glowed.

 

Before when Michael had done this, the light had been golden, and painful to observe. Under Gabriel’s hands, the light was soft and pure, filling the room with a white light. Dean watched in awe, knowing he was seeing Castiel more intimately than he’d ever imagined.

 

The light faded as Gabriel withdrew his hand, a frown etched on his face.

 

Sam leaned against his side lightly, his hands still carefully cradling Castiel. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Michael… I can’t believe he would… He’s fractured Castiel’s grace.”

 

“And that means?”

 

Gabriel couldn’t answer. He stared at Dean sadly.

 

Dean blinked. “What? No!”

 

“What, Dean?” Sam asked.

 

“No.” Dean pulled Castiel against his chest, tightening his tail against his waist, wrapping himself around the angel as completely as he could. “He’s not dying. He’s not. You’re wrong.”

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“How long does he have.”

 

Gabriel breathed out heavily and looked at his brother. Castiel watched him quietly.

 

Gabriel suddenly leaned forward. “Cas?” The angel blinked. “Cas, I have an idea. With your permission, I’m going to send your grace to Earth.”

 

Dean shoved him back. “Send him to Earth? What does that even mean?”

 

“His grace will descend, and he will be reborn as a human.”

 

“Will he still be… him?”

 

Gabriel smiled. “Grace is not like a soul that can be molded to its surroundings. It leaves lasting impressions. He will be as he is now, only mortal.”

 

“And what happens when he dies?”

 

“What happens to any of us when we die?”

 

“You know what I mean, Gabe. When the mortal body dies, what will happen to him?”

 

“With any luck his grace will be strong enough for him to come back to us fully formed.”

 

Sam glared. “With any luck?”

 

Gabriel struggled not to roll his eyes. “I haven’t sent a lot of angels to Earth, I can’t be positive.”

 

Dean shook his head roughly. “I’m not letting you send Cas down on a maybe.”

 

“Look,” Gabriel said roughly. “He will die soon if we leave him like this. If we take a chance though, he will get to live a full mortal life. He’ll have a chance at happiness. We can give him some time before we have to deal with what happened to his grace. I swear to you Dean. Sam. I swear when he dies I will be there to take care of him.”

 

Sam hesitated and nodded.

 

They both turned to Dean. The demon looked deep into Castiel’s eyes, searching for something. “Can I go with him?” He asked suddenly.

 

Gabriel hesitated. “I… yes. Yes, I could do that.”

 

Dean nodded, and slowly leaned forward, capturing his angel’s lips. “I’ll see you downstairs, Cas.” He whispered. He carefully transferred the rest of Castiel’s weight into Sam’s arms, and stood up. “I need to go take care of Michael.”

 

Gabriel jumped to his feet and cut Dean off. “No.”

 

“Move. That bastard needs to be taught a lesson.”

 

“Dean.” Gabriel said, catching his wrist. “You need to take care of Cas first. Take a trip downstairs. Human time passes like nothing up here, you’ll be back soon. Michael will still be here. Go make my brother happy, Sam and I will do what we can here.”

 

Sam slowly wound his tail around Dean’s wrist, silently urging him to sit back down. Dean resisted as long as he could before sitting beside his brother, winding his tail around his brother’s arm. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

 

Gabriel pressed his hand firmly to his brother’s chest, filling the room with soft white light. He curled his hand and Castiel arched beneath it, the light focusing beneath Gabriel’s palm. Gabriel pushed and the light was gone. Castiel fell limp in the brother’s arms.

 

A soft cry tore itself from Dean’s throat.

 

Sam lowered the angel’s body and wrapped his arms around his brother.

 

Gabriel moved behind them, and wrapped his hands around Dean, one resting over his heart, the other over his spine. “Ready?”

 

Dean nodded.

 

Gabriel pressed firmly once more and a deep blue light filled the room. It focused under the archangels hands, and then it too was gone.

 

Gabriel lifted Dean’s body carefully and indicated to Sam to lift Castiel’s; together they took them back to their rooms. The souls would need a place to come back to after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Stand By for Regeneration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stand by for regeneration!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I make it pretty clear, but just in case I don't, Asadel? He's Dean. Lucas? He's Castiel. I was half tempted to keep their names the same, but... that is really really unrealistic. But you know what I did do? In old English Dean means prosperous one. In Arabic Asadel means prosperous one (to be fair, there were a few names that fit that bill, but I like Asadel the most). And Lucas? LuCas? I hope the change in names doesn't bother you, I'll try to keep them as true to their real characters as possible. 
> 
> I'd also like to apologize. I do hate when bad guys in movies are people my country happens to be at war with, or have recently been to war with. The only reason I caved and did it here is because there was a scene in this story that I needed to have happen – a scene that was the inspiration for this story – and this was the only way I could think of to make that happen, and besides, Dean/Asadel isn't really a bad guy, is he? For this reason I felt it was acceptable to have to do the following series of events. 
> 
> That was long. Sorry. I hope this story continues to please you!

Asadel had short chestnut hair, and piercing green eyes. He was always friendly and self assured. He always smiled brightly at all those he passed. Many people liked Asadel, and at times it could be said that everyone in his village was his friend. All his life he stood up for those weaker than himself, and never changed himself to be liked by anyone.

 

But everyone knew he had a vicious streak a mile wide; when he wanted to be, he could be terrifying.

 

Asadel attended classes regularly, but his grades never set him apart. He preferred watching the sky intently to doing any school work.

 

As he grew older, he found himself unable to fully understand other boys his own age. They all had soon become interested in tormenting young girls they found attractive and as they grew up, spent their afternoons watching as they carefully helped their mothers with chores.

 

Asadel never felt this way about the girls.

 

He never found himself dreaming of a life with one of the girls in his village. He always felt… like he was waiting for someone. Like he was already taken. His friends laughed when he tried to explain it.

 

It soon became clear to Asadel that he would not find this person, his _wife_ , waiting for him in this small village. He needed to go find her.

 

When he turned fifteen he knew it was time. “I wish to leave, father.”

 

Faheem closed his book and gave his son his full attention. “Leave, Asadel?”

 

The young man nodded, his eyes focused intently on the older man. He cherished his father above all others. His approval meant everything. He desperately wanted to leave this place, but if his father told him to stay, he would. He swallowed and tried not to let his nerves show. “Yes, father.”

 

“Don’t you think that is a little drastic, my son?”

 

“My… my soulmate is out there somewhere waiting for me. She is not here and she never will be.”

 

“You always talk of this girl, Asadel,” Faheem sighed. “I believe you are looking at it wrong. You are viewing love incorrectly. It doesn’t instantly fall into your lap like that. You will not walk passed a woman one day and know she is the one. Love requires you to get to know someone; it requires effort. There are plenty of girls here who could easily be the one you’re waiting for if you’d only give them a chance.”

 

Asadel swallowed, and had to look away, the dread of becoming tied down to this place filling his heart like poison. “Yes, father.” He said weakly.

 

Faheem frowned. “You do not believe me?”

 

“No, father.” Asadel replied softly.

 

The older man contemplated his son, standing before him in a small room he’d claimed as his study. Beautiful tapestries offset the harsh sands just beyond his home’s walls. This small village had always been perfect for himself and his family, but it had never been perfect for Asadel. Even as a young boy his son had never seemed content. He’d always been restless. Faheem nodded to himself. “Then you must go.”

 

Asadel was shocked. “What?”

 

“Go. Find this woman. But know you will always be welcome here, and know I wish to meet her when you find her.”

 

Asadel grinned widely and rushed into his father’s arms, squeezing him tightly. “Thank you.”

 

Faheem hid his smile in the boy’s hair. “When will you leave?”

 

“Tonight.”

 

“Eagar?”

 

“Always.”

 

Asadel all but ran to his room, packing every thing he would need into a small bag he slung easily across his back. When he went to say his goodbyes with his mother she almost cried and forced him to take a few containers off dried food. His sisters kissed his cheeks quickly, each demanding he write home, and then he was off, walking briskly through the cool night of the desert.

 

\----------

 

Lucas had always seemed centuries older than he looked; his seemingly ageless blue eyes boring into the things surrounding him as though each was a new discovery no matter how often he saw them every day. His voice always seemed to be pitched lower than other boys his own age, and he always acted seriously and obediently. His parents never quite knew what to make of it. By the age of five he’d seemed fully grown up.

 

Lucas had sharp features, and was always popular with the girls around him. He had short black hair that was always mused no matter how much he brushed it, and while he was shorter than his peers, he held himself in such away that he seemed to fill the room with his presence alone. His frame was lean, but he was deceptively strong, and he had two indistinct marks on his chest and waist. His family called them birthmarks, but to Lucas, they looked more like scar tissue.

 

When he was young, his peers often teased him, accusing him of staring too much and taking everything too literally, but no matter how badly he was bullied or tormented, he remained kind and courteous. He never held grudges, and he helped people whenever he could. His classmates almost had no choice but to like him, and they didn’t know when or how, but soon he earned their love as well. By the time he was ten the whole town considered him to be a secret treasure.

 

Lucas never seemed to study, and his eyes always watched the sky, following as hawks took flight and robins sang. Despite this, he always excelled academically, languages simply flowing off his tongue, and numbers dancing easily under his fingers.

 

Despite all the interest he garnered, as he grew older he never had a serious relationship. He dated many girls, but for some reason he never felt anything for them. In high school he tried dating a few boys, but again he felt nothing. Lucas could never understand it, and for a while it hurt him to think he’d never know that kind of love, but he hid his pain and gave his attention to other areas of his life, focusing on the love he felt for his friends.

 

While Lucas could have done anything with his life, gotten into any university, learned any art, he chose to attend the Air Force Academy.

 

Lucas wanted to fly.

 

He graduated early at the top of his class, and soon had his wish, flying some of the fastest planes in the world.

 

When he was shipped over seas, he went willingly, knowing it was a part of the life he’d chosen to live. All the same, he was very grateful when three of his friends were sent with him.

 

After they’d finished for the day, they decided to use their given free time they walking around the base.

 

John knocked two cigarettes loose from their carton, tucking one behind his ear before cupping his hands to light the second. He took a long drag, blowing the smoke casually above him. “Man, could they have sent us to a worse place?”

 

Chris shrugged. “Better than being stuck on an air craft carrier. Then we’d have nothing better to do than look at the water all around us and wait until we start imagining we could walk on it.”

 

Laura laughed brightly, her voice cutting through the air like a wind chime. “Would we really go insane so fast?”

 

Chris nodded, frowning seriously. “Count on it.”

 

John looked pointedly at all the sand currently surrounding the base. “Yeah, this is better.”

 

Laura winked. “Sarcasm does not become you.”

 

A smile crept across Lucas’s face. “Pity it seems to be the only language he speaks then.”

 

John gasped theatrically. “Is that a _smile_ , Lucas?”

 

Lucas ducked his head as the smile grew. He watched his friends as they walked, his eyes dancing between them as they bantered quietly. As his shoulder bumped against John’s, and Laura latched onto his arm, he knew his friend was wrong. He didn’t care where he was stationed; Iraq, Korea, the United States? They were all the same to him, as long as he had his friends with him, he was home.

 

They’d been staying on the base for a little over three months when Lucas and his friends were sent on their first real mission; their first opportunity to apply everything they’d been learning up to that point in real combat settings.

 

Their sergeant brought them together before they left. He lifted a clip board, casually turning pages. “Lucas, you’ll fly lead. John, you’ve got his tail. Chris, cover Laura. Be safe out there, and good hunting.”

 

The soldiers saluted smartly and headed out to the flight deck. Laura grinned at Lucas. “Time to shine.”

 

Chris groaned, a step behind them. “Come on, this is just a baby mission. Fly out, look around, fly back. No big deal.”

 

Laura shrugged, her smile unwavering. “Everybody has to start somewhere.”

 

John jumped forward, wrapping his arms around Lucas, forcing the man to stumble a step. “I got your back!” He breathed into his ear.

 

Lucas chuckled and elbowed him halfheartedly. “Yeah, yeah, I feel _so_ safe. Get off lard butt.”

 

Chris choked. “Lard butt? Lucas, we really need to teach you how to swear.”

 

Laura watched him critically. “I mean, lord Lucas, you’re in the military now. You should be swearing all the time. In fact, I insist you start swearing once every two minutes.”

 

John smirked. “Practice does make perfect.”

 

Lucas sighed. “Just because I can’t swear –”

 

“It’s not that you can’t swear, dear,” Laura said simply. “You just suck at it.”

 

“Shut up, ass butt.”

 

“See!” His friends exclaimed together.

 

Lucas rolled his eyes, and split from them, walking to his bird. He climbed into the pit, and quickly went through his routine, flipping the appropriate switches, and pressing buttons to warm up his equipment. He adjusted the straps on his helmet and did the appropriate radio check. “Ready, guys?”

 

“Ready?”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Let’s hit this.”

 

They moved into position, got clearance for take-off, and were soon in the air, flying in formation under radar.

 

As Lucas watched his instruments, he did have to privately admit that Chris was right; this was a bread run. Easy. But a mission was a mission, and Lucas wasn’t going to screw this up. “Alright guys, I want radio silence, understood? We don’t know where secret cells may be, and we don’t want to alert any of them that we’re here.”

 

His friends signaled their affirmation, and then he was flying quiet. Lucas always loved the silence flying afforded him. As they flew across the empty expanse of sand and small dunes they saw a small expanse of rises on the horizon. Mountains, Lucas knew.

 

As they moved closer, Lucas smirked to himself. They _called_ these things mountains, but compared to the things back home, they were just rocky cliffs. His smirk softened as they flew over head. They may not have been what he was used to, but they had a beauty all their own.

 

His head jerked back slightly when the first bullets grazed his wing. “Evasive maneuvers.”

 

His friends instantly fell away, years of training coming to them easily.

 

Soon the air was filled with flying lead, bullets ripping through the air narrowly missing him every time. Two shots clipped his right wing, sending up smoke and metal, circuits suddenly visible; for a moment he lost control, and his aircraft began to spin wildly.

 

Lucas gritted his teeth, pulling up with everything he had. Slowly his plane began to respond and soon he corrected his flight path, shooting back up away from the jagged rocks below.

 

Panting he looked around, wincing as he noticed others weren’t fairing much better. This wasn’t good. From what he knew of the layout, they still had a lot of ground to cover before they’d be clear again, and in that time they’d be out in the open. They couldn’t fly any higher without giving themselves away, and if they stayed this low it was only a matter of time before someone got hit. As he rolled out of another round of incoming fire he made up his mind. “Alright guys, I want you to get out of here now. Complete the mission. I’ll cover you. Get out of here. Now.”

 

“Lucas! No!”

 

“Go now!” Lucas waited until he was sure they were leaving before he allowed himself one final self deprecating smile. He’d always loved flying. He’d always felt more at home in an aircraft than in his own skin. It was only fitting for him to die in one. His smile slowly grew; if he was going out, he was going to do it in style. He unhooked the mask over his face and let himself spread out comfortably in the cockpit.

 

Then he ducked and fell as close to the ground as he could, kicking on the heat at the last moment and shooting up over the rocks so closely his heart was in his throat knowing death was only a few feet away.

 

As he’d hoped, the firing was now centered on him giving his friends the opening to escape.

 

He kept up as long as he could, flying in ways he’d always dreamed his instructors would allow.

 

Beneath his hands his bird sang, moving elegantly around corners and ducking up over cliffs. He maneuvered easily around a particularly harrowing pass when he felt the plane shudder.

 

Lucas glanced over his left shoulder and saw his wing ablaze before alarms began screaming around him.

 

There was another burst of gunfire. The glass over head shattered, a hole piercing neatly in front of his face.

 

Lucas’s hand automatically shot for the leaver that would eject him into the sky, pulling it quickly.

 

His shoot opened and caught a draft leaving him suspended as he watched his plane strike the ground below him and explode. The resulting blast knocked him to the side sharply. He winced as his head connected roughly with the shear rock wall beside him and then the world went black.

 

\----------

 

He woke up with a groan. He pulled at his arms and winced as his shoulder screamed at him.

 

Lucas opened his eyes and noticed he was in a small room with rock walls, a low hanging ceiling that seemed to be made out of the same material and a dark mud floor. He twisted his head back and saw a large wooden door directly behind him with a moveable rectangle clearly installed to let someone look in on him. Along one wall there was a simple table that was completely bare, and that was it in the way of furniture. The place was lit with shoddy lights that did not so much light the room as cast deep shadows into every corner.

 

He was sitting in the center of the room, in a small metal chair with no arms that was cold against his back. His feet were attached to the front legs tight enough that he had no range of motion whatsoever, and his hands were tied behind him with what felt like wire. He flexed his hands experimentally and winced as he felt his skin catch and tear.

 

Perfect.

 

Lucas closed his eyes and breathed deep, calming himself. It was a little tricky, but he managed.

 

There was no way to tell time in this place; there was no clock, no subtle sound of dripping water stereotypical of all movies, no windows to allow him to judge by shifting light. There was only the simple walls, and the lights buzzing merrily. Lucas nodded to himself and focused on the beating of his heart and the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

 

He estimated about two hours had passed by the time the door opened. Knowing he was probably over exaggerating due to the silence around him, he decided likely only one hour had truly gone by.

 

The new person in the room moved around behind him, staying strategically out of his sight. He knew the person was likely doing this in the hope that he would begin twisting fervently trying to see who he was. Knowing this Lucas forced himself to remain relaxed, simply watching the bare wall. He watched the wall for a long time before the figure finally moved into his line of sight.

 

He was a man, approximately 30 to 40 years of age, of medium build, and obviously of Middle Eastern decent. He had two distinct scars on his face; one that curved up over his left eye and back into his hair and a deep knife wound on his neck where someone had very clearly tried to kill him. Lucas decided to dub him Scarface.

 

Scarface dragged a short stool in front of him and sat down, crossing his arms and smiling widely. For a moment Lucas wondered if the man could speak English; it turned out he could. “So, American, eh?”

 

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “No. Cuban.”

 

A fist caught him above the eye. For a moment the world span, and then it came back into focus, Scarface still smiling happily. “What is your name?”

 

“George Clooney.”

 

Another fist. Lucas was proud of himself when he didn’t make a sound. “Lucas Novak, right?” Scarface held up his dog tags.

 

A small smile tugged at Lucas’s face, but he said nothing.

 

“Well Mr. Novak, your time here will be much more enjoyable if you cooperate with us. So tell me, will you cooperate?”

 

Lucas chuckled. “Nope.”

 

Scarface stood up. “What a pity.” He ran his fingers across Lucas’s cheek. Lucas firmly resisted the urge to flinch away, and instead held Scarface’s gaze unwaveringly. “You know, you are quite pretty, Lucas. It will be a shame when we have to carve you up, but I guess that is your call after all.”

 

“Praise Allah.” Lucas muttered sarcastically.

 

Scarface laughed and raised his hand, beckoning to someone Lucas couldn’t see.

 

He heard heavy footsteps enter the room. He estimated two or three men now stood behind him. When they came into view he grimly noted he’d been right. Scarface nodded happily; Lucas knew he was meant to understand the instructions when they were issued in English. “See if you can make him more amiable, yes?”

 

The three men did not smile, they simply stared at Lucas darkly. Their eyes never moved as Scarface began speaking in Arabic. With one final nod at Lucas, he left. The three men he’d decided to call Big, Bigger, and Short Stuff, waited until the door closed, and then they were on him.

 

Lucas managed to distance himself from what was happening and focus on other things, like the sounds he was struggling not to make.

 

He knew from training that it was bad to bite your tongue to keep from screaming, as it was very likely you would just end up biting your tongue off and drowning in your own blood. In the back of his mind he wondered if that would be a good thing. He busied himself with both sides of the debate as his body became a punching bag for the other three in the room. In the end he decided he’d hold off on the suicidal notions until he knew for certain there was no hope for escape.

 

As soon as he came back to himself, prepared to put this new plan of attempting silence while not intentionally killing himself, he noted the men were just finishing up with him.

 

Short Stuff and Bigger carefully avoided looking at him as they rubbed the blood off of their hands and made their way behind him, Big stood in front of him for a moment taking him in before he also moved back. Lucas held his breath as the door closed firmly, a heavy sliding indicating the bolts that had been locked into place. Distantly Lucas was proud he’d managed to make these people think he had some kind of escape plan.

 

Once he was sure he was alone, Lucas spat out a mouthful of blood and took stock of himself; he was covered in blood, that much was certain. His hair was slick with it, and blocking his sight out of one eye. He blinked rapidly until enough of the red mess had cleared that he could begin making out shapes again. His lip had been split in three places; after gentle prodding with his tongue, he knew he’d probably need stitches. For the most part his head was okay though, a little numb, but okay. That was the good thing to note. From this he knew that none of the damage was meant to kill him, it was just meant to scare him; head wounds did bleed a lot after all. He moved on to the rest of his body.

 

There was a dull ache just above his heart, and chest hurt badly when he tried to breathe. Lucas estimated at least two of his ribs were broken; from how he was breathing, he was thankful neither had punctured a lung. His shoulder still stung badly, he knew in all likelihood it was probably dislocated, and his hands burned; slick fingers confirming the wire was cutting him up badly.

 

Lucas did his best to crane his head back and determine if he was going to slowly begin to bleed out like some depressed teenager, but he couldn’t make out anything from this angle.

 

Lucas licked his lips again as he turned back to the wall, with a smile. He’d live. For how long was another story, but he really didn’t see a point in worrying about what they would do next if there was nothing he could do about it anyway.

 

Briefly he wondered how his friends were fairing. They’d looked okay when he’d last seen them.

 

Hopefully they’d finish the mission and send someone along to save him. A dark part of his mind pointed out that these mountains were filled with caves and secret places to hide; it was very likely no one would ever come for him. It was even more likely knowing the potential threats no one would bother to expend a lot of resources looking for a lowly captain.

 

He was a soldier; he was expendable, and he knew it. It was a part of the lifestyle.

 

Despite his acceptance something stung at his eye and he looked around the room again, this time excepting that he would die in it. He closed his eyes with a soft smile, feeling at peace, and allowed himself to drift to sleep.

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed the next time he opened his eyes.

 

The blood on his face had crusted and his hands and arms were stiff. He carefully shifted and noted happily that his wrists had stopped bleeding as well. He breathed deeply and settled back.

 

It was almost fifteen minutes later when he heard the distinct sound of someone standing up.

 

Lucas jerked his head sharply; he’d been certain the door had not opened, and that meant this person had been present the whole time. The person laughed and carefully moved into his line of site. “Hello there.”

 

Lucas glared, considering him. The man was… beautiful was the only word for it.

 

From what he could tell the man was taller than himself, but still shorter than the three who’d beat him earlier. This man had kind green eyes, but Lucas quickly steeled himself against trusting them. Green Eyes smiled and crouched in front of him, carefully not touching him. “What’s your name, angel?”

 

Lucas laughed darkly. “Seriously?”

 

Green Eyes’s brows furrowed in confusion.

 

“Flattery? You guys tried _once_ , you’re really that desperate?”

 

Before Green Eyes could answer there was the sound of a bolt sliding back, and then the door was opening.

 

Green eyes straitened immediately, all but leaping away from him.

 

Lucas watched him curiously. Someone entered the room and stopped. Green eyes spoke rapidly in Arabic. The language sounded beautiful coming out of Green Eyes’s mouth. Lucas mentally scolded himself. The man behind him said something harshly, and then Green Eyes left the room trying to catch his eyes one last time. Lucas glared at him.

 

The other man waited until Green Eyes was gone, and then walked over. Lucas was not surprised when he recognized Scarface. “Are you ready to cooperate now, Mr. Novak?”

 

Lucas’s head fell to the side. “Depends. What is it exactly that you’re looking for?”

 

“Where is your base located?”

 

“On the back of your head. Pity you can’t see it.”

 

His head was knocked to the side when the fist struck him. Pain exploded as old wounds and bruises connected.

 

“Where is your base located?”

 

“In Atlantis. But it’s at the bottom of the sea, so pack your scuba gear.”

 

The fist. Lucas began to hope that eventually his face would become numb against it. Scarface chuckled darkly and exited the room. “You will regret your insolence.”

 

“Probably.”

 

The door closed firmly.

 

Lucas took care this time to bend around and check the corners, making sure no one was in the room. Satisfied he was alone he turned back to the wall and began following cracks and tracing pebbles and stones that were not perfectly flush with anything.

 

His gaze took him up to the lights installed up against the wall. He followed the wires that traced high up, clearly trying to be out of the way. He wondered if somewhere out there someone had cared enough about the construction of this room to try to hide the fact that wires filled it.

 

\----------

 

Lucas was almost certain he’d been in the room for a week or so.

 

Green Eyes visited him constantly.

 

He always came alone and he always tried to leave before anyone else came in. Lucas was torn between believing that he actually cared and that he was doing it because he was trying to be the Good Cop and hoping to get the sad lonely American to open up to the only kind face this place offered.

 

To his credit, Green Eyes never asked him questions. Sometimes he brought him scraps of food, but he usually sat on the floor in front of Lucas, watching him.

 

Whenever Lucas grew annoyed and snapped at him to either take a picture or look away, Green Eyes would move to the shadows to watch him unseen. That was almost worse, and usually Lucas would call him back over. Green Eyes would usually return with a smirk. Lucas kept his face carefully blank.

 

Almost everyday Scarface stopped in to tell him to talk _or else_. Lucas really wished John had taught him how to swear, because this really seemed like the perfect time for it.

 

The people Scarface brought in to rough him up usually varied. He never saw Short Stuff, Big and Bigger again, and after a while he stopped giving out nicknames to the people who didn’t visit more than twice.

 

They tried every form of torture Lucas had ever heard about, and even a few he hadn’t; he was very proud to say he never screamed for them.

 

Of everything they tried, his least favorite was when they used electricity; it was just about the only thing that almost made him lose the hold he had on himself. They’d brought in something that had once been a mattress, and now was simply a bundle of twisted metal, and laid it behind him.

 

Someone came over and cut the wires that bound his wrists, and then tugged them out of the blood that had crusted over them.

 

Lucas tried to bring his hands up to fight them, but lack of food, minimal water and blood loss worked against him, and he found he was too weak to do much and he was easily over powered.

 

They laid him out spread eagle, tying him firmly in place, and then a young kid asked him questions while someone controlled the voltmeter off to the side. Lucas was too baffled by the little guys’ age to even consider his answers.

 

When they tied him back to the chair, Lucas could hardly hold himself upright. He was covered in burns and he was rather thankful that neither of the two had taken any more shots at him.

 

His eyes slipped shut as the door closed.

 

He woke up with a jolt when something wet touched his face.

 

Green Eyes was kneeling in front of him, a rag of some kind in his hands. He pulled away when Lucas locked eyes with him. Lucas tried to speak and failed. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What are you doing?”

 

Green eyes brought the rag up, and Lucas was forced to close his eyes as it wiped at his forehead and eyes. Lucas ducked under the hand and tried to look at Green Eyes again. The man laughed and the rag began wiping down the side of his face and neck, frowning apologetically as Lucas winced as he passed over burns.

 

“Do you speak English?”

 

Silence.

 

“Eğer ingilizce konuşuyorsunuz?”

 

Green Eyes laughed, shaking his head.

 

“هل تتكلم الإنجليزية؟"

 

Green Eyes looked up in shock. “You speak Arabic?”

 

Lucas’s mouth twitched up in a smile. Green Eyes followed the movement. “A little. What were you doing?”

 

“Cleaning you up.”

 

“Clearly. Why?”

 

Green Eyes laughed and pulled the rag away. “Because you’re covered in blood and grime?”

 

Lucas struggled not to laugh. Green Eyes leaned back, slightly confused. Lucas grinned. Green Eyes leaned forward. “You look beautiful when you smile.”

 

“Is that why you called me angel?”

 

Green Eyes smiled bashfully. “What’s your real name, then?”

 

“You mean you don’t know? I find that surprising.”

 

“Maybe I know it, but I’d rather you tell me.”

 

“It’s Lucas. Lucas Novak.”

 

Green Eyes smiled. Lucas’s head fell to the side. “What is your name?”

 

“Asadel.”

 

Lucas nodded, wincing as the muscles in his neck pulled. “Why are you here, Asadel?”

 

“Why are any of us here?”

 

“You know what I mean. Why are you in this cave?”

 

Lucas was confused when Asadel fought a deep frown. He forced a smile. “You are quite a strange one, you know.”

 

Lucas stared.

 

“You won’t scream. You never scream. It confuses the others.”

 

Lucas blinked. “Confuses?”

 

Asadel smiled widely. “Well, that, and it impresses them. I don’t think we’ve ever had anyone last as long as you without them breaking down. It’s a pity too.” He reached out a hand and traced some of the bruises decorating Lucas’s face. “You’d be so pretty without these.”

 

“Why do you keep complimenting me? Is this some new form of punishment?”

 

Asadel pulled back, shocked. “What? Why – I’ve _never_ hurt you!”

 

“Well, it’s never too late to start, is it?” Lucas scoffed bitterly.

 

Asadel opened his mouth when the bolts slid back. He jumped away. Lucas scowled.

 

Watching Asadel’s face was interesting. Before his face had been soft and open, but as someone stepped in it hardened instantly into a cruel mask. Lucas knew from the tone of voice that Scarface had just entered the room. The two men had a quick conversation that Lucas was unable to follow. Then Asadel was leaving and Scarface was in front of him once more, a smile he was growing to hate covering his face.

 

Lucas straightened, preparing for whatever Scarface had prepared for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will openly acknowledge that I know very little about how wars are fought, how the army does anything, and really anything about... well anything. All I know I learned from TV shows and movies, which are themselves not 100% accurate. This story is just the representation of the pictures I see in my mind, forgive me my inaccuracies. 
> 
> When this story was originally posted on ffnet I had someone complain rather loudly that Arabic men would not be ever gay because the culture was so strongly against it. If you are of the same mind allow me to respond before you even leave such a comment. Just because a culture is against homosexuality does not mean it does not happen. And besides, this is a work of fiction, so I'm allowed to do what I like.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. In Which a Rebellion Brews, and An Escape Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in heaven a rebellion is brewing, while on Earth Lucas makes his stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a late post today.

Gabriel sat with Sam in their darkened room. Since Castiel had left, Gabriel had begun ignoring his duties; he just… couldn’t comprehend the horror his brother had done. In the beginning Sam had been curled tightly around his brother, murmuring words in a language Gabriel had never heard uttered by any living being. After five days Sam pressed a kiss to his brother’s ear, his tail lightly dancing down the demon’s body. He stood and moved quietly to the archangel, wrapping his tail around Gabriel’s waist, and catching his hands tightly within his own. “They’re gone, aren’t they?”

 

“Yes.” Gabriel whispered.

 

“I thought Heaven was supposed to be this… great place where only good things happened. I thought shit like this was supposed to happen in Hell.”

 

“Well,” Gabriel began, “I suppose I should say that no place is perfect, but… I can’t believe Heaven was capable of this either.”

 

“What do we do?” Sam asked after a while.

 

Gabriel could not answer. His eyes kept going back to the still body that used to glow so brightly with Castiel’s grace contained within it. Finally his eyes hardened and he pulled away from the demon, striding quickly to the door. Sam all but ran to catch him. “What are you doing?”

 

“I cannot let this stand. I cannot.” His dark eyes turned to the demon. “Stay here.”

 

“No. I’m coming with you.”

 

“This will get ugly, Sammy. Very ugly.”

 

Sam laughed. “Good thing I’ve lived in the deepest pits of Hell for an eternity then, huh?” He bumped his nose against Gabriel’s temple. “There’s nothing you prissy pants angels can do that could even begin to faze me.”

 

Gabriel looked pointedly at the bodies laying across his bed. Sam’s face hardened. “I’m more shocked that it happened _here_ , not so much that it happened. What he did… breaking Castiel’s grace… well, that happened so quick he really didn’t have the time to suffer.”

 

Gabriel stared at him archly. “And how, my dear demon, do you know how long he suffered?”

 

“Well,” Sam’s eyes danced across Castiel. “My brother was willing to go after him without tearing Michael’s arms out of their sockets, which tells me that while your brother is, unquestionably, a dick, he is not very schooled in the arts of horrifying a demon. I’m not insinuating that Michael doesn’t deserve to die a bloody death that I will be more than willing to carry out myself, I’m just saying Castiel did not suffer long.”

 

Gabriel smiled softly at Sam. “You certainly make an excellent point.”

 

Sam nodded. “I get that a lot. Since I’m going to be in charge of making Michael regret ever laying eyes on Dean, I deserve to go with you.”

 

Gabriel sighed and leaned forward, capturing Sam’s lips. “Alright, alright. You win.” He wrapped his arms around the demon’s shoulders and together they walked through the door.

 

Gabriel wasn’t sure where he would find Michael; his brother never kept an accurate schedule. As they wandered down the hall they passed the soldiers barracks and a few angels ran up behind him. “Gabriel!”

 

As the archangel turned they winced back. Gabriel quickly schooled his features into something a little more personable. “Hello, brothers.”

 

Three angels stood in front of him. Each had a demon standing just off to the side, or behind them. They each watched him curiously. “What’s wrong, Gabriel?”

 

A woman Gabriel recognized as Iofiel stepped forward, her eyes bright and curious; a strong demon stood behind her, clearly ready to intervene should he try anything. Gabriel had to smile; Sam had positioned himself similarly behind him. “I need to find Michael. Do any of you know where he is?”

 

A second angel who Gabriel recognized as Hamaliel cleared his throat and stepped forward quietly. “He’s on the balcony that over looks the courtyard.”

 

That was strange; Michael usually didn’t spend his free time watching the young ones fly. “Do you know why?”

 

“He is designing more drills for us to fly. He says we have too much free time.”

 

Ah. That did sound like his brother. “Thank you.”

 

As he turned to go, another angel stepped forward. This one was huge, tall and broad shouldered. Gabriel actually wasn’t too confident he’d win in a fight with him.

 

He was pretty sure this one was Machidiel, an angel known for protecting the smaller angels in his garrison. Behind him, a lithe golden eyed woman watched Sam, her small hands wrapped around Machidiel’s biceps. The angel reached one hand up, touching hers. “I never thought I’d see _you_ again,” the woman said.

 

Sam smirked. “Lovely, as always, to see you, Katherine.”

 

She smiled. “So why do you look so distressed? What are these feathery bastards keeping from us?” She smiled as she spoke, pressing a small kiss to the large angel's cheek.

 

“Cheeky, aren’t they?” He muttered to his friends. They laughed quietly.

 

Katherine shrank back as Sam growled lowly.

 

The angels quieted instantly, fully focused on Sam’s burning eyes. “Michael is going to regret the day he was created. I am going to use every technique I ever created or learned or even _heard_ about on that feathery fuck.”

 

Machidiel frowned in confusion, turning to Gabriel with a question in his eyes.

 

Gabriel cast Sam a reprimanding look. The demon glared defiantly. Gabriel turned back to his brothers. “Michael killed Castiel. He fractured his grace.”

 

The angels had no words. Iofiel blinked rapidly, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally she managed. “Castiel? He’s... gone?”

 

“Yes and no. I managed to send him to Earth before we lost him completely.” Gabriel nodded at Sam. “We’re going to go speak with Michael now. Please remain here.”

 

“Yes, of course Gabriel.” Hamaliel replied breathlessly.

 

The archangel nodded at them and grabbed Sam’s hand, leading him away. As soon as they passed from sight the angels turned to each other. “I can’t –”

 

“He couldn’t –”

 

“He did.”

 

“We must tell the others.”

 

\----------

 

Gabriel and Sam walked briskly down the hall. “That was a bad, bad idea.”

 

Sam snorted. “No it wasn’t. If Michael didn’t want people to know, he shouldn’t have done it. You know,” he said suddenly, “that is the difference between Heaven and Hell I think. In Hell we openly admit we do evil. In Heaven, you’re just really secretive about it.”

 

Gabriel tried to smirk as his eyes traced doors along the hallway. “Am I evil then, Sammy?”

 

“You couldn’t be evil if you tried. That doesn’t mean none of you fly boys are.”

 

They slowed as they reached the balcony doors. Gabriel took a deep breath, and pulled them open. Michael stood, his hands clasped behind him, eying the pools the other angels used to sit around. At this moment they were deserted. Gabriel didn’t think he’d ever seen it like that. He frowned, wondering how many humans would die or suffer without their normal angelic guardians watching from above.

 

Above them Gabriel saw more garrisons in the air than he’d ever seen before. He felt his lip twitch up as he wondered how long it would take them to learn to start flying closer together so they could talk. Already he noticed some garrisons flying in sync with each other, and some garrisons who were obviously flying competitively to pass the time.

 

“I was wondering when you’d finally venture out of your room, Gabriel.” Michael said without turning.

 

Gabriel placed a hand on Sam’s arm, keeping him in place, though his expression never changed. “Why did you do it, Michael?”

 

“The little one deserved it, Gabriel.”

 

“He deserved to have his grace fractured? He deserved that pain? He deserved annihilation?”

 

“Yes.” Michael said simply.

 

“Why, brother? You were never interested in finding a match, and then once you found that demon,” Sam growled, his eyes going black. “When you found Dean,” Gabriel corrected apologetically, “you were never interested in loving him, you were interested in controlling him.”

 

“I fail to see how this is any of your business.” Michael replied darkly.

 

“The little ones are my business.” Gabriel answered, matching his tone.

 

“And my brother is mine.” Sam snarled.

 

Michael smirked. “Is that so, demon? You should tell your brother to behave then.”

 

Sam leapt forward, grabbing Michael by the front of his robe and tugging him forward sharply.

 

Michael smirked. “I hear my brother has not raised his hand against you, demon. I warn you, I will not be so kind.”

 

“Try me.” Sam hissed. “I’ll show you what happens when you touch what’s _mine_.”

 

Michael’s eyes gazed passed Sam’s head and bore into his brothers eyes. “Control your demon, brother. You know what happens to angels who cross me.”

 

Sam shook Michael, drawing his eyes back. “Going to break his grace too? And you call _us_ monsters?”

 

Michael brought his hands up to hold Sam’s wrists. Gabriel lunged forward, restraining him. “You will not harm Samuel.”

 

Michael’s hands released their hold on Sam, and reached out, tugging Gabriel forward. The demon between them was the only thing preventing them from colliding. “Return to your rooms, Gabriel. _Now_. Or I will call the guard and have you taken by force.”

 

Gabriel hesitated and his eyes traveled upwards. At least four garrisons had halted their flight patterns and hovered above them, watching silently. Quietly Gabriel wondered how many of them would side with him in this fight. His eyes met Michael’s and he knew he was asking the wrong question. The real question was how many of these angels would be willing to stand up to the other archangel.

 

“Alright.” Gabriel ground out. “We’ll go.”

 

Sam’s eyes flashed to him, enraged and betrayed. “ _No_.”

 

“Sam.” Gabriel’s eyes pleaded with Sam, and then slowly traced all of the soldiers watching who he knew would be forced to intervene. “Let us depart.”

 

Sam’s eyes returned to their normal color, and with one final scathing look at Michael he headed back inside. Michael smirked and looked back at the angels watching, silently commanding them to get back to work.

 

Once the doors closed Sam wheeled on Gabriel. “What the _fuck_ , Gabriel? I thought you were finally going to stand up to him!”

 

“Sam,” Gabriel grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him in abruptly. Sam tensed, but he relaxed as the archangel looked around for anyone who might be listening in. Satisfied his eyes returned to the demon, but he still kept his voice low, just in case. “Right now Michael is unpopular with the majority of the angels here. He is cruel and self centered, and they feel it. Castiel was popular in his own way. He was innocent; more innocent that he should have been. He was pure. And he was _loved_. Now they all know what Michael has done.”

 

“What?” Sam interrupted. “How do they _all_ know? No one knows!”

 

“That’s not true Sam. We told those angels, remember?”

 

“Fine. You told like, three guys.”

 

Gabriel grinned. “The soldier’s gossip. They gossip more when they’re being forced to fly extra drills they think are pointless because Michael says so. The word will get out quickly, and once they’ve heard what Michael has done, they will pick a side. They’ll be with Michael, or against him. Once we’ve got some more angels on our side we’ll be able to do something.”

 

A slow smile spread across Sam’s face. “You are devious when you want to be.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

 

“Good.” Sam threaded his arm through Gabriel’s as they walked back down the large hallway. “So we’re going to stand up to Michael?”

 

“Hm. Yes. I suppose that is the plan.”

 

“Then can we start by _not_ going back to your room? I’d much rather go find a nice patch of sun.”

 

“Then I suppose we can begin rebelling now. You know. If you insist.”

 

“Oh, I insist.”

 

“Good.”

 

As they walked passed the corridor that led to the archangels rooms Sam grinned. They were almost to the gate that led outside when Sam’s tail reached out and loosely wrapped itself around Gabriel’s hand. The archangel grinned and squeezed it lightly. As he smiled at Sam he wished with all his heart that his brother was happy.

 

\----------

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It felt like years, but he knew that was very unlikely. Probably unlikely. He decided that he’d probably have died by now if it was years. It was more likely to be weeks. Three at the most.

 

Asadel had stopped visiting. Lucas felt a curl of self hatred in his stomach for missing him, but he truly did hate waking up to an empty room.

 

Everyday he took stock of the room, and over the last few days he’d started noticing something different. It was happening under his chair. A large dark stain was starting to form. It took him a little while to figure out what it was, and after a time he became slightly puzzled to note that it was blood. It was strange to think of how much a body could hold; it also made him wonder how much he could afford to lose.

 

People continued to come into his room. Some brought him little bits of food, and some brought him water. It was just enough to keep him alive, and usually enough to remind his stomach that it was hungry. Other people came in with bats or wires and some times just their bare fits, as they continued trying to persuade him to talk about whatever it was they thought he knew.

 

After a while a few people came in with a video camera. Lucas watched them with disinterest. Scarface walked up behind him and grabbed his throat, shaking him dramatically for the viewers and placing a gun snuggly to his head. Lucas rolled his eyes.

 

Scarface was not amused.

 

After the camera left the room Scarface jumped in front of him, tugging his hair sharply as he pulled Lucas’s face up. “I have had _enough_ of your insolence, boy.” With a dark chuckle he stormed out.

 

When the door opened again, Lucas steeled himself for whatever was facing him. His mask fell when he saw Asadel. The green eyed man glared at him, his face hard. Then Scarface strolled over and clapped a hand on Asadel’s shoulder. “I think it’s time you got to know my little friend here. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to talk about hmm? This young man is good at so many things, but he is an _artist_ with a knife.”

 

Asadel nodded curtly and strode from the room. Scarface stayed, smiling like he was in on some big secret.

 

Lucas watched him blankly.

 

Asadel returned quickly with a canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He moved to the small table against the wall and unfolded a large white cloth. He opened the bag and began removing objects from it, laying them out before him. Lucas tried not to pay much attention to him, but glinting silver caught his eye. He turned and watched as Asadel arranged his knives, touching them almost reverently.

 

Scarface smirked. Lucas tried to keep his face neutral.

 

Asadel slowly moved in front of him, his eyes captivated by the knives edge as he moved it in the light. Scarface grabbed his head, pulling him close as he grinned at Lucas. “Show this infidel what you can do, my son. I look forward to seeing what you make of him.”

 

He pushed Asadel’s head away and walked to the door, pausing for a moment to watch them before closing the door.

 

Lucas watched transfixed as Asadel moved forward and dragged the blade across his face and up under his eyes. As he pushed the blade in, right on the verge of breaking skin, Lucas felt his breath catch.

 

“Scream for me.” Asadel whispered.

 

Lucas forced himself to draw a breath. “No.”

 

Asadel moved closer, straddling Lucas’s waist, wrapping his free hand around the American’s shoulders. “You have such beautiful eyes.” He whispered. “Maybe I should cut them out and have them with me always. Would you scream then?”

 

Lucas blinked unconsciously at his words.

 

A soft laugh tore out of Asadel’s throat, and then the knife was dancing down his throat, slicing buttons as it continued down his chest. Asadel nuzzled into his neck, biting lightly at his pulse point; the knife lay hot between them, pressing into him so tightly Lucas was afraid to breathe. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” he gasped.

 

Asadel tensed. Then the knife twisted and Lucas felt blood begin to fall between them. He gritted his teeth and breathed in sharply.

 

Asadel fisted his hand in the small hairs at the base of Lucas’s neck and pulled his head back sharply, pressing forward until their chests were pressed together to stare into the other man’s eyes. The knife twisted deeper. “ _Scream_.”

 

Lucas winced. He felt one building. He looked into Asadel’s dark eyes. “Why are you here?” He gritted out. “Are you really his son?”

 

“No!” Asadel snarled, pulling the knife up suddenly to press threateningly at his throat. “He is _not_ my father.”

 

Lucas swallowed, feeling the knife beginning to slice into the skin where it pressed. He looked deeply into Asadel’s eyes; if he was going to die here, now, under this man’s hands, he wasn’t going to be bashful about memorizing everything he could about the beautiful creature.

 

Asadel stared back, but slowly he began to change; first his eyes softened, then his face. Bit by bit the grip on the back of his head loosened, until the hand there cupped his head rather than held it hostage. Asadel slowly moved away jerkily, the knife staying firmly in place.

 

“Asadel,” Lucas murmured.

 

His eyes snapped open. Asadel lunged forward, hiding his face in Lucas’s neck. “When I was fifteen I left home. I’d always felt like I was waiting for someone, and I needed to go and _find_ … anyway, I’d been traveling for almost a year, and then I entered this one quiet little village next to a beautiful oasis. While I was searching through buildings and school yards, the village was raided, and I was taken hostage. I was… sitting where you are now; tortured. I don’t know how long, but it felt like an eternity. Eventually they gave me an ultimatum. Join us or die. So I joined them. I’ve been here for six years.” The knife fell to the floor with a loud clatter as Asadel wrapped his arms completely around Lucas’s shoulders, hiding his face in the other mans neck. “Please forgive me.”

 

Now that the knife was no longer cutting into him, Lucas found he was able to breathe properly. He turned his face into Asadel’s head, burying his nose into the dark hair. “There’s nothing to forgive.” He closed his eyes as the world began to spin, and then slouched forward as he felt his consciousness slip away.

 

When he opened his eyes again, Scarface was sitting in front of him casually. Something on his face and chest pulled. He glanced down and saw slashes cutting through his shirt and pants, piercing through the skin beneath them. From the way his face was aching, he noted that he probably had cuts there as well.

 

Scarface grinned. “I see you have finally met our crown jewel. A pity you passed out before you could truly appreciate his talent.”

 

Something was off here, Lucas just knew it. He tuned Scarface out and looked down at himself again. None of the wounds had bled much. In fact, if his clothes had been any lighter shade, it would have been obvious that they were merely scratches.

 

Scarface clapped a hand on his chin and yanked his head up. “You will tell me everything you know, or I will call the demon back in.”

 

Lucas wanted to spit in Scarface’s eye, but he didn’t have enough saliva in his mouth. He settled for laughing. Hard. Scarface smirked knowingly. “As you wish.”

 

Asadel entered the room with his toys again. As soon as the door shut he turned to Lucas. “You should be more careful with Shaitan.”

 

“Shaitan? You mean Scarface?”

 

Asadel couldn’t help but smile. “Scarface?”

 

“Yeah, cause his face is… Nevermind. Doesn’t Shaitan mean devil?”

 

Asadel nodded, turning back to his knives, running his fingers over them as he talked. “It does indeed.”

 

“Is that really what he calls himself?”

 

“I call him Shaitan for the same reason you call him Scarface.”

 

“Ah.” Lucas’s head fell to the side. “I take it you’re going to cut me up now, right?”

 

Asadel selected a knife. “You’ve really left me with no other choice. Either I cut you up, or they cut me up.”

 

Lucas stared at him, his face carefully blank. “Quite a position you’ve got yourself in.”

 

Asadel glared sullenly. “I wouldn’t be if you’d just behave.”

 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

 

Asadel paused in front of him. “You haven’t disappointed me,” he whispered.

 

Lucas rolled his eyes, leaning back against his chair. “I don’t get you, I really don’t. One second you’re this nice guy, the next you’re some psycho with a knife. Now don’t get me wrong, I know I shouldn’t trust you either way, but could you please choose one face?” He closed his eyes. “I’m too tired to deal with your mood swings.”

 

Lucas sat in silence, enjoying the darkness behind his eyelids. They never turned off the damn light in this room, and sometimes he missed being in the dark. After he’d waited a good five minutes, he sighed and opened his eyes. Asadel was crouched in front of him, watching. The knife twisted slowly in his hands, his fingers lightly dancing along the handle.

 

Lucas raised an eyebrow.

 

Asadel shook his head quietly. “I don’t get _you_. How is it that you’re the one tied up, but I feel like I’m the one being held captive?”

 

“Oh god, your pick up lines really need some work.”

 

Asadel said nothing, eyes tracing over the cuts Lucas was sure covered his face. He began to stand. Lucas closed his eyes again. “I see psycho won.”

 

Asadel brought the knife up slowly. “You won’t scream, will you?”

 

“It’s not very likely.”

 

“I have a feeling you’d scream so pretty.”

 

“Too bad. I guess you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

 

He hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I know.”

 

Asadel moved the knife quickly and efficiently.

 

Lucas was surprised that the other man wasn’t actually torturing him. He was cutting, sure, but all of the wounds were designed to bleed, not to injure. At no pointed did he stab or twist the blade, or do any other number of tricks that he knew would throw him into waves of agony.

 

Asadel stepped back quickly, eying his handy work. Then he turned sharply and went back to his table, dropping the knife with a heavy clatter and quickly bundling everything up.

 

Lucas watched him cautiously, his teeth lightly biting his cheek as he felt the stings from the numerous cuts now covering his body.

 

Asadel would not look at him as he swiftly strode to the door. “Goodbye.” Lucas called.

 

Asadel stopped abruptly as he reached for the handle, and turned. He made his way back over, stepping carefully until he stood directly behind Lucas, his hands shaking slightly.

 

Lucas turned his head as far as he could to watch him. Asadel’s head tilted to the side to meet his eyes, and circled him slowly. His free hand reached out and traced up his jaw, settling behind his neck. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Lucas’s forehead. Behind his eyes Asadel flashed back to the numerous times his father had preformed the same act.

 

Lucas held his breath, confused as to what was going through the other man’s head. It seemed to take a long time for him to pull back. Then he quickly walked to the door and left.

 

Lucas blinked and felt tears sting at the back of his eyes. He was sure it wasn’t the pain; as far as he was concerned, this knife thing was by far the least painful of everything they’d tried; but seeing Asadel leave after that tugged at the strings of his heart.

 

In the back of his mind, he knew that was probably part of some great plan these bastards had for him. Stockholm syndrome or whatever they psychiatrists were calling it. He wished that part of his mind would go have a stern talk with his heart, and turned back to his wall, closing his eyes. He took a few deep breathes and opened his eyes.

 

The same wall as always stared back at him. He looked at the small table. It was bare once more. He craned back to look at the door. Closed. Bolted. He flexed his hands. Wire still tight. He pulled at his feet. Yep. Still securely tied down. He gazed up at the ceiling. Dark. Closed in. It would be bad if he’d been claustrophobic. He checked the lights. It was strange really. The wiring looked terrible, but they still buzzed merrily. Back to the wall. Lucas wished they’d been in some kind of brick cell or something; then he’d have something to count at least. He looked down at the dark stain under his chair. Since he’d started having his sessions with Asadel none of the others had been to see him. With this new pattern, the stain had not grown. Asadel never seemed willing to add to it.

 

He looked back at his feet. While he was here, he might as well start up some kind of escape plan. Step one: loosen the bonds on his feet. He’d work from there. He started kicking out his feet, grunting with effort as the wires started to cut through the fabric of his pants, and began cutting through his ankles and calves. They didn’t budge or loosen, they simply moved up and down as blood began to slick their path.

 

Behind him the door opened.

 

He stiffened instantly. He cursed himself for relaxing when Asadel walked into view.

 

The young man refused to look at him as he circled the room and settled in front of him, sitting cross legged on the floor, his eyes firmly on the ground.

 

Lucas watched him. When the other man did not speak, Lucas allowed himself to go back to watching the wires and the lights, deciding to act as if he were still alone in the room.

 

Almost an hour passed before Asadel stood up, brushing off his pants as he moved. He nodded at Lucas’s legs. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

Asadel smiled slightly as he headed towards the door.

 

“Hey.”

 

Asadel paused.

 

“What were you doing here?”

 

Asadel hesitated and then left, closing the door softly.

 

Lucas went back to tugging at his feet, knowing that if he let the wounds sit too long it would be harder.

 

Scarface, or Shaitan now, came to see him some time later. He eyed him appraisingly.

 

Lucas kept his face blank.

 

“Ready to talk to me?”

 

Lucas said nothing.

 

“I’m beginning to grow tired of your insolence. This is your last chance to save yourself; then I will have you cut into pieces and sent to your friends.”

 

Lucas laughed. “Good luck with that.”

 

Shaitan grinned and leaned in close, conspiratorially. “Maybe I could be lenient. Maybe you could beg for your life. Beg, little boy. Beg, and I will let you up from this chair. I will teach you our ways, and you can live here. You can _live_ , Lucas. I won’t make this offer twice.”

 

Lucas stared into the face of Shaitan, Scarface, whoever, and for a moment felt exactly what Asadel must have felt. To know that you were looking into the face of death. To know that nothing and no one would save you. He knew what the smart choice would be; beg for his life and attempt escape later.

 

But he’d never claimed to be a smart man.

 

“Go back to Hell, devil.”

 

Shaitan flinched; he recovered quickly. “I will enjoy watching you die.” He spat, striding to the door. He banged twice and pulled it open. Lucas craned around to see as the hallway came into sight. Seven or eight men sat outside the door. They’d clearly been listening in. Some eyed him with something akin to respect. Other shook their heads sadly at his stupidity. Lucas was rather surprised to find only a select few were happy to see him die.

 

Shaitan growled at them. Lucas recognized a few swear words in the Arabic he shouted, and something that sounded like “go do something useful, swine” but he was a little shaky on that one. Whatever he said, the hallway cleared almost instantly save for one.

 

Asadel entered the room slowly, his head bowed. Shaitan stood with him, a large grin on his face. “I want him in pieces, Asadel. As many as you’d like.”

 

Lucas paid the large man no mind, his eyes fixed on Asadel. The green eyed man would not look at him. His hands shook lightly; Shiatan hadn’t noticed. Then their eyes met. Asadel’s eyes were begging him, pleading with him to agree to the devil’s terms. Lucas frowned; refusing. In an instant Asadel was on him, his knees pressing harshly against his thighs, the knife pressed below Lucas’s ear as he growled. “Just say yes, you dumb fuck.”

 

“No.” Lucas whispered into Asadel’s shoulder.

 

Blood began to drip down the blade as Asadel hissed in frustration. “I don’t want to kill you.”

 

“Then don’t.”

 

“Say yes.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Then I _have_ to.”

 

Lucas choked back a yelp as the knife cut into him deeply before finding a new home at the base of his ribs. “You don’t have to.” He groaned.

 

“I do, I do, I do,” the other man all but sobbed.

 

Behind him Shaitan’s face was beginning to draw together in confusion.

 

“You’d better get on with it.” Lucas whispered into Asadel’s ear. “Your boss is getting suspicious.”

 

As he spoke Shaitan walked up behind Asadel. He placed a hand firmly on his shoulder and pressed down hard, forcing the knife to dig into Lucas’s flesh. “Get _on_ with it, Asadel. Unless you have this bastard writhing in agony I don’t want to hear any speaking. Do you hear me?”

 

Asadel’s eyes searched through Lucas’s frantically.

 

“Do. You. Hear me?”

 

Asadel gripped the knife hard and brought it up. Shaitan smiled.

 

“Close your eyes.” Asadel whispered.

 

Lucas obeyed. He felt Asadel push away and rise. His breath slowed as he awaited the next blow. It never came. A strangled cry forced his eyes open.

 

Shaitan was bent over, clutching a gaping wound across his chest. Asadel grinned insanely, blood covering his face and neck. He brought the knife down again, cutting the jugular oh so carefully, sending out a wave of blood, but failing to kill the man. Asadel turned neatly and returned to his table, picking up a wickedly curved blade. It glinted silver in the light as he quickly returned to his prey.

 

“Guards!” Shaitian shouted.

 

Asadel laughed and brought the blade down hard, the flat side connecting sharply with Shaitan’s jaw, the edge cutting a fine line from his ear to his chin. “They’ve all gone,” Asadel cooed. “They’re waiting word that the angel has finally died. No one will save you.”

 

Shaitan’s face hardened. One hand wiped at his face while he used the other to push himself up. Even bleeding on the ground the man managed to look menacing. “You will suffer for this, Asadel. I will make sure of it.”

 

“I may suffer,” Asadel replied happily. “But you will not be around to see it.”

 

Lucas closed his eyes as Asadel brought the knife down one final time, cutting Shaitan’s throat, and silencing him forever. The stench of blood in the room was overwhelming.

 

Lucas forced himself to look at Asadel, and he almost visibly flinched back. The man looked like a demon standing over the Shaitan’s prone body. Blood had soaked into his clothing, staining them a deep crimson, and his hands and arms dripped with it. His face was covered in smears and drops of the precious liquid, and parts of his hair were matted down. It was his eyes that chilled Lucas to the bone however. They stared sightlessly at the blade in his hand, a hideous smile on his face.

 

His eyes flicked to Lucas, and he quickly advanced. If Lucas could have run, he would have.

 

Asadel stopped in front of him with a frown. Lucas relaxed as the man visibly came back to himself.

 

Asadel looked like he was about to ask something when his eyes jumped to the door, and then back to Lucas. “We have to go. Now.”

 

Asadel quickly crouched down; his knife cutting the wires around Lucas’s legs, before his hands carefully removed them. After watching what Asadel had done to Shaitan, Lucas was surprised he could be so gentle. He took extra care around Lucas’s wrists, making sure not to reopen any old wounds or cause any sort of pain.

 

Freed of his bounds, Lucas attempted to stand. He made it to his feet before his head felt light and his body began to sink. Asadel caught him swiftly. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, wrapping his blood soaked arms around Lucas, keeping him upright. Once the wave of dizziness passed Asadel led him to the door.

 

Lucas held his breath as the door opened and almost felt disappointed when an ordinary hallway presented itself.

 

“What you were you expecting?” Asadel asked with a faint smile as they quickly made their way down so many twists and turns that Lucas was quickly lost.

 

“I don’t know.” Lucas answered slowly. “The gates of Hell?”

 

Asadel grinned, pausing behind a large rock cropping to look around before continuing down another short hallway. “No, those were in that lovely room of yours.”

 

Lucas nodded softly, panting. “I could believe that.”

 

“We need to get out of here quickly.” Asadel muttered as he led them down yet another obscure pathway.

 

“Yes, I rather thought that would be the case.”

 

Asadel grinned. “I know it seems obvious, but you don’t realize that we have a very precious window right now.”

 

“Oh, do we?” Lucas answered with feigned enthusiasm, quickly checking for the twenty seventh time that they were not actually being followed. His eyes glanced down and noted the faint trail of blood his wounded calves were leaving. “We should probably be worried about that.”

 

Asadel glanced at the trail and dismissed it, tugging Lucas towards a path that finally, _finally_ started to angle upwards. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Uh,” Lucas looked at him critically. “I think I’ll have to disagree with you there.”

 

“No, angel,” Asadel whispered, pulling Lucas close. “It doesn’t. Right now, all of the people here are waiting in various rooms for the word that you are dead. They’ll want to hear it from me that I killed you. They’ll want to know if you finally broke and cried out. They’ll want to know what you sounded like. But none of them actually want to be involved.”

 

Lucas found that a little confusing. “Why not?”

 

Asadel shrugged. “You’ve gained quite a few admirers here. We’ve never had anyone go so long without at least crying, or screaming or something. I half thought you were a mute.”

 

“So you’re saying that if we’re found they’ll let us go?”

 

“No. They’ll kill us.”

 

“Nice admirers.”

 

“If you joined them it would be different.”

 

“So why aren’t they coming now?”

 

“They’re giving me time to break you. The second they realize what happened we’ll be caught, trail or no. We just need to get out.”

 

“Okay,” Lucas answered. “Got it. How far do we have to go?”

 

“Not very.” Asadel paused in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a dark tunnel. Lucas could not see the end in the gloom. After being in that room, with that light, for that long, the darkness seemed terrifying. Lucas could not force his legs to move. “It’ll be okay.” Asadel assured him. “I’m right here.”

 

Lucas’s eyes darted from the darkness to Asadel’s smile, and he slowly nodded and stepped forward.

 

Asadel stayed right at his side the entire way. Any time Lucas stumbled, his hands instantly steadied him, and constant pressure at his lower back assured him that Asadel stood beside him, even when his eyes refused to believe it.

 

When they finally reached the end, the world fell away and they stepped into the sun. Lucas closed his eyes and let himself bathe in it. After a moment Asadel tugged him along, hoping to get as far away from that place as he was able.

 


	8. In Which Something Good Finally Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally start to go our way, isn't it nice when that happens?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written before the dissolution of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.... it isn't that important, but just so you know.

Lucas followed Asadel as closely as he could, but he found himself tiring quickly.

 

As he stumbled around a particularly large boulder, a tight burn forced his hands up to push firmly at a large wound at his side. He choked back a hiss, hoping Asadel hadn’t noticed. He let out his breath slowly as the man in front of him continued to scramble down the rough path.

 

Lucas took a second to pause and check the wound his hand was tightly pressed against. Red fluid slugged out weakly.

 

Lucas shook his head in exasperation and paused as another wave of dizziness cut through him. He took another step and faltered. “Asadel.” He said quietly.

 

“Come on, Lucas, we need to keep moving.”

 

“Asadel, wait.”

 

“No, we need to get –”

 

“ _Please_.”

 

For the first time since they’d been out in the open, Asadel stopped and turned to Lucas. His breath caught. “Angel…”

 

Lucas was deathly pale against the rocks, his eyes cloudy as his hands pressed uselessly against various wounds, blood creeping out around his fingers. Asadel moved quickly, his hands moving to cover Lucas’s. “Maybe we should rest.”

 

“That might be a good idea.” Lucas answered, his eyes sliding shut as he fell forward.

 

“.القرف” Asadel breathed as he caught the other man.

 

\----------

 

The sun was blinding as Lucas opened his eyes. He groaned and turned away, his face burrowing into the softness beside him.

 

Something wasn’t right.

 

His feet weren’t touching the ground.

 

He frowned into the darkness, and tried to remember what had happened. He’d been in that god forsaken room that smelled of blood and death. Asadel was holding some kind of silver monstrosity that dripped red rubies onto the ground as he stood over the dead body of his captor. Then they were moving through those complex tunnels, and then they were out. They’d been climbing down some steep rocks when… he’d fallen.

 

He blinked up and saw Asadel’s face twisted with panic.

 

“Are you carrying me?” He asked slowly.

 

Asadel looked at him in surprise, his face breaking into a relieved smile. “It’s good to see you back in the world of the living.” He answered gruffly.

 

Lucas smiled gratefully and glanced out at their surroundings. He noted that he could no longer see they cave they’d emerged from. “I wonder if they’ve noticed we’re missing yet.” He mused.

 

“Probably.” Asadel answered offhandedly. “But hopefully they’ll be worrying too much over who the new leader will be to put up much of a chase.”

 

Lucas nodded, pleased to note the action did not cause another wave of dizziness. “I think I’m alright to walk now.”

 

Asadel frowned. “I disagree.”

 

“Put me down.”

 

“No.”

 

“Asadel.” Lucas said warningly.

 

“You know, it’s alright to rely on others for help.” Asadel complained as he set Lucas on his feet.

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to rely on you.” Lucas said as he held onto Asadel’s shoulder, testing his balance. “I just don’t want to make you do all the work.”

 

Asadel sighed and took the lead, carefully navigating down the rocky path. Lucas reached forward and captured his hand. Asadel stumbled, looking at his hand in shock. He caught himself and tightened his hold on Lucas’s fingers. Lucas couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face.

 

Lucas wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the land finally gave way to scraggy bushes and the ground stopped sloping so much. He moved forward so he was walking directly beside Asadel rather than behind him, their hands swinging gently between them. “So where are we heading?”

 

Asadel frowned. “That is the million dollar question, isn’t it? We’re pretty alone out here.”

 

Lucas scanned the empty horizon. It was nothing like back home, where you could usually see some sign of life, whether it was a road, a telephone pole, a water tower, or the slow movement of a plane up in the sky wherever you were; this place had an endless expanse of sand reaching off in all directions, the mountains behind them being the only break in the pattern. There were no roads that he could see, there were no buildings breaking the line of the horizon, there was no sign of life anywhere. It was beautiful in its own way, but still deserted. He sighed happily.

 

Asadel looked at him in confusion. “I think you’re misinterpreting the situation.”

 

Lucas laughed. “I’m alive, you’re alive; how am I misinterpreting anything?”

 

“How are you – we may die before we can reach any form of help!”

 

“All the more reason to enjoy this time for as long as we can.”

 

Asadel shook his head. “You are a strange one.”

 

Lucas smiled softly. “I don’t disagree with that.”

 

Asadel tugged Lucas close, playfully bumping their shoulders.

 

“We should try to get to an American base.” Lucas said after a while.

 

“Hmm,” Asadel mused. “Then we should probably find a road.”

 

Lucas looked at him curiously.

 

“Well, you Americans are always using them, right? So we’ll be more likely to have someone drive passed us.”

 

“Asadel,” Lucas spoke slowly. “You are covered in blood and I am covered in blood. If they come across us now, I don’t know what they will do with you.”

 

“Lucas,” Asadel responded, “I will not stand idly by while you die because I was too afraid to seek help for you. I was raised better than that.” He muttered.

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

“What?”

 

“How you were raised. Tell me about it.”

 

Lucas had no idea where they were or where they were going, he allowed Asadel to lead them as he talked about a life in a small village filled with interesting people. Asadel talked about his younger days playing with other boys out in the moving sands. He talked about school and how he used his time studying people rather than the covered subjects. He talked about his mother and his sisters and how they used to tease him. He talked about his father who always seemed to make the right choices no matter what the situation was, and how he’d always kept himself and his sisters on the right path. He talked about that feeling he’d always had about needing to find his soulmate somewhere out in the world.

 

“How did you know she wasn’t one of those girls you never paid attention to back in your school days? Maybe she always sat behind you hoping you’d notice.”

 

Asadel grinned. “My father thought the same, you know. He thought I was looking out to far, and ignoring those people standing in front of me.”

 

“I see you still disagree.”

 

Asadel nodded. “I do. Though now I think I’ve waited long enough; I think she might start looking for me.” Asadel looked meaningfully at Lucas.

 

They lapsed into silence for a while. The sun was just beginning to set when they finally reached a road. Asadel looked as far as he could in both directions. “So which way did you come from?”

 

Lucas looked at the mountains and how they were situated and started walking in what looked like the right direction. He stopped suddenly. “Wait.”

 

“What?”

 

“What about road mines?”

 

Asadel rolled his eyes. “We can’t wait here forever.”

 

“Maybe waiting is a better choice than losing a leg.”

 

“Fine.” Asadel tugged Lucas off the road and down the slope and a few feet further. Far away enough that he felt they'd avoid the majority of any mines, or as many as they could hope to miss anyway, while still making sure they'd be walking in parallel with the road. “Better?”

 

“Much.”

 

“So tell me about your life.”

 

Lucas talked about always feeling out of place in his home town. He talked about being bullied as a child, and about how it all began to change as he grew older. He talked about how school had always been easy for him, and how he’d always wanted to fly. He talked about the friends he made in the military, and he talked about what it was like to finally find himself in the cockpit of an F-16. He talked about life in the United States and life on the base. He talked about never experiencing love and his regrets over never finding a man or woman who could make him feel complete while carefully avoiding Asadel’s eyes.

 

“You still have time, Lucas. You’re still a young man.”

 

Lucas laughed. “Older than you.”

 

Asadel chuckled. “How old are you?”

 

“Twenty three. You?”

 

“Twenty two.”

 

“See? Older than you.”

 

“By _one year_.”

 

“Still. Older.”

 

Asadel rolled his eyes as Lucas turned his face up to watch the moon, shivering slightly in the chill of the evening. “Wow.” He whispered.

 

“What?”

 

“Look at the stars.”

 

Asadel looked at Lucas. The other man watched the sky transfixed as his feet stumbled along. There was something about Lucas that pulled at his heart. He’d only known the man for three weeks, and in that time they’d hardly spoken, but he felt like they’d known each other all their lives. He felt like… he didn’t have to look for his soulmate anymore. He swallowed, his eyes searching for the other mans hesitantly. “Lucas, when this all gets sorted out with your army people, I want you to meet my father. I think he’d like you.”

 

Lucas turned to him, his head tilted, his eyes clear. A slow smile spread. “I’d like that.”

 

Asadel felt warmth flood his soul.

 

Lucas stumbled. Asadel caught him easily. “Maybe we should rest. You clearly need some sleep.”

 

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Sleep? Come on, we can keep going.”

 

“Lucas.” Asadel growled. “Do not make me restrain you.”

 

Lucas laughed. “Come on, wouldn’t it make more sense to go as far as we can while the sun is down?”

 

“You’ve been sitting in a cell for three weeks, Lucas. I don’t think you can go any further.”

 

“I’ll do what I have to do, and this is it. We need to keep moving.”

 

“I warned you.”

 

“What?”

 

Asadel moved quickly, tackling Lucas to the ground. Lucas swore loudly, pushing at Asadel with everything he had. He was certain that normally he’d have been able to dislodge the other man, but as it was, his hands pushed uselessly against Asadel’s shoulders. “Get off me!” He ground out.

 

“You need to rest.”

 

“I can rest when I’m dead!”

 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

Lucas paused. “What?”

 

“You can’t keep pushing yourself. I’ve let you go on too long as it is. Now you need to take it easy.”

 

Lucas stopped pushing, his hands twisting into Asadel’s shirt. “You’re worried?”

 

Asadel looked away. “Maybe.”

 

Lucas frowned as Asadel avoided his eyes. “Alright, alright, fine. We’ll stop here for tonight.”

 

Asadel pushed himself off of Lucas, moving off to his left side and turning away. “I’m glad you see it that way. Good night.”

 

Lucas nodded at Asadel’s back, and settled back into the sand. That was the funny thing about deserts, he mused. It was so damned hot in to day and so cold at night. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and tried to shift slowly into the residual warmth the sand offered, trying to suppress his shivers. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself back in the barracks at the base. He imagined his hard bed, thin sheets, and the soft breathing and subtle snoring of the soldiers sleeping around him.

 

Just as he began drifting off there was a sudden warmth at his back. He tensed, readying to fight when a heavy arm wrapped around his waist and hot breath touched his neck. He turned to look and saw Asadel pressing against his back.

 

Asadel pulled him closer. “Close your eyes.”

 

Lucas turned back to the open desert, closing his eyes. He found it was easy to allow the darkness to claim him.

 

It came as a shock when the sun came up. It had felt like his eyes had only been closed for a second. Lucas felt sore and stiff, all of his wounds now fused with sand and grit. A few of them pulsed weakly, matching a dull throb behind his eyes. It was almost too easy to allow his eyes to drift closed and press back into the weight behind him. Asadel groaned quietly. “Angel?”

 

“No.” Lucas slurred. “ ‘s not here right now. Feel free to leave a message.”

 

Asadel chuckled. “I thought you were the one arguing we should keep walking?”

 

“Tha’s diffr’nt. Doesn’t count.”

 

Asadel shifted forward, bracing his arms on the ground before pushing himself up. Lucas caught him; wrapping his arms around the neck and pulling him back down. “Come on, ten more minutes?”

 

“But you’re already awake,” Asadel teased. “Might as well just get up right?” He used Lucas’s hold against him, pulling him to his feet. Lucas groaned and stumbled forward as weight was placed on his abused legs. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Asadel said hurriedly, as his hands fumbled forward to brace Lucas.

 

Lucas laughed humorlessly. “It’s alright. Nothing to help it right now. Let’s get going, alright?”

 

Asadel watched him with wide eyes that stood out sharply against his blood crusted face. It made him look so innocent, more innocent than Lucas knew he was. Asadel blinked, ruining the illusion, and suddenly rough hands traced all the wounds Lucas had earned in the past three weeks.

 

Lucas once again cursed his inability to swear as Asadel inspected every injury no matter how small. “Could you stop that?!” He finally exclaimed.

 

Asadel pulled back, his face completely serious. “You need to see a doctor, but I do not believe you will die.”

 

“Gosh, thanks for that,” Lucas replied sarcastically. “It’s not like there is a doctor who could have helped any way.”

 

Asadel glared. “I like knowing you’re not going to just drop dead.”

 

“Of course, sorry.” Lucas apologized. “I guess I’m a little snappy right now.”

 

“It’s alright.” Asadel replied, dropping his eyes as he began to walk. “You have every right to be.”

 

Lucas moved forward as fast as he could, capturing Asadel’s hand. “Look, I’m sorry. Really.” He stretched out his neck, wincing as cuts stretched. “Let’s just keep going. I’m sure after we’ve gone a few miles I’ll start being… friendly again.”

 

Asadel felt a smile beginning to grow across his face. “Who says you’re ever friendly?”

 

Lucas laughed shortly. “Good point, I suppose.”

 

They walked in a comfortable silence for hours, tracking the sun’s movements across the sky. When it stood at its apex, Asadel noticed something far off against the horizon. They both stopped. Lucas carefully met Asadel’s eyes. “Ready?”

 

Asadel nodded.

 

\----------

 

They stood on the side of the road, watching as the cloud of dust came closer and closer. Lucas was surprised that it took the trucks and humvees took so long to reach them; with nothing to use as a reference it was impossible to tell how fast the vehicles were going.

 

It had been an hour, maybe two when Lucas began walking forward again. Asadel fell instep beside him unquestioningly.

 

Twilight was beginning to set in when they could finally make out details of the incoming cars and trucks. When they could start making out the faces of the drivers they paused once again, and the military wasted no time surrounding them completely.

 

Soldiers in fatigues with helmets firmly in place and huge AK-47s in their hands leapt out of their vehicles, using the doors as cover, as they screamed for Asadel to get down on his knees and place his hands on his head.

 

He obeyed quietly.

 

A solider leapt forward and tugged his arms sharply behind him, using a zip tie to attach his hands. Another soldier appeared at Lucas’s side and escorted him to a large truck parked in the very back. The second the door closed, a man with a large red cross on his arm identifying him as a doctor was on him. Once the doctor pushed him back against a seat, the truck roared to life and began driving back the way it came

 

The doctor had dirty blonde hair and an expertly trimmed goatee, offset by hard unfriendly brown eyes. Lucas grimaced in frustration as the doctor began touching and examining his injuries, his fingers prodding deep cuts painfully and pressing down hard on burns. He’d never liked doctors very much, and this really wasn’t helping his opinion.

 

The doctor smiled simply, considering Lucas knowingly. “Don’t like doctors, hm?”

 

“That obvious?” Lucas groaned as he leaned back against the leather seats, doing his best not to writhe in agony.

 

“Just a bit. Look, I’m Doctor David Meyer. I’ll be taking care of you.” The doctor offered his hand. Lucas hesitated before accepting it. “As soon as we get back to the base I’ll get you something for the pain.”

 

Lucas frowned and shifted away from the other man, his eyes shooting out the window to watch the landscape fly by. The rest of the world faded to a subtle drone.

 

He jerked away when two hands touched his shoulders. The doctor was speaking. Lucas stared at his lips and began wondering faintly what he could possibly be saying.   
  


Worry began to fill the doctor’s eyes, but Lucas couldn’t find it in himself to care. There was a rushing in his ears and a warmth began flooding his system as he allowed himself to drift away. Before he closed his eyes he noticed the doctor now shouting something at their driver. It was interesting.

 

Distantly he wondered how Asadel was doing.

 

\----------

 

Asadel let the men tie his hands behind him and then shove him up roughly against a car. He watched as someone dragged Lucas away and pushed him into the back of a large truck. He was happy when a doctor joined them; it was about time the angel had someone to look at those wounds.

 

Rough hands jerked him off the hood and shoved him into the back of a humvee where three men kept their weapons trained on him while they drove. They seemed very worried about the blood he was covered in; he didn’t blame them.

 

He wasn’t sure if they didn’t know he spoke English or if they just didn’t care, but no one asked him any questions while they drove.

 

They drove for a long time, and his hands were beginning to ache. He frowned as he remembered how destroyed Lucas’s wrists looked from they way they’d been bound together.

 

The base was far in the desert and constructed out of tan buildings that almost vanished against the sand. A chain link fence lined the perimeter, and soldiers with serious expressions and large weapons stared out in every direction, prepared for attack at any moment. Lucas’s vehicle arrived first, and Asadel tensed as he watched them carry the unconscious body out.

 

He tried to track where they took Lucas when the door beside him was pulled open and he was yanked out. He tried to follow them of his own violation, but the way they were moving almost forced them to drag him.

 

He was taken into a large building in the center of the camp and thrown into a tiny holding cell. The cell was barely large enough to move around in, a small cot, a bare metal sink and toilet taking up all the room. He was surprised it was nicer than many of the cells in the cave they’d escaped from.

 

As soon as the guards cut the zip tie and walked off, he moved to the sink and caught water in his hands, rubbing it over his face, neck and arms and watching the stained red water trickle down into the basin. Once he was fairly clean he stretched himself out on the cot, and crossed his arms behind his head, deciding to enjoy the space while he had it.

 

As he closed his eyes he wondered how Lucas was doing. He hoped his angel would visit him as soon as he was able.

 

\----------

 

Lucas opened his eyes in a tent like structure. There were plastic windows and sloping walls and ceilings that occasionally moved in the wind. A crude screen flanked his bed on either side to give patients the illusion of privacy, and off to his left a machine beeped gently in time with his heart. There was a large metal pole beside him that had a clear bag hanging off of it, a thin tube leading from it down to a needle taped in place on his arm.

 

Lucas reached out a hand to touch the tubing and groaned as stiff muscles flexed. Panting, he allowed his arm fell back down against his side.

 

He stared at the ceiling for a moment before he carefully he craned his head up and noticed he was now clothed in a plain white hospital gown, with bandages wrapping up and down his arms. He moved his arm slowly, using his body to prop it up as he pulled back the collar of his gown and looked at his chest. Bandages held his ribs together and covered up the many cuts and bruises he’d earned over his stay in that cave. Pressure packs covered his numerous burns, along with some kind of cream that felt cool against his skin. As he shifted cautiously he felt matching wrappings around his back.

 

He settled his head back against the pillows, tilting his head against his shoulder to allow his eyes to search his small frame of view.

 

He was just starting to drift off again when Doctor Meyer walked into his line of sight, and then into the small cubical where he lay.

 

“Hey, doc.” Lucas greeted, his voice raw.

 

Meyer smiled, picking up a clipboard and reading various stats. “It’s lucky we found you when we did, Lucas. You’re going to be all right. A few of your injuries will scar, but most will heal fine. I’m a little concerned about the injuries across your back. Can you tell me how you received those?”

 

“Mattress.” Lucas grunted. “Electricity.” He cleared his throat. “Water?”

 

“Certainly.” Meyer walked to the small table beside the heart monitor and picked up a glass of water with a bright green bendy straw sticking out from it. Meyer held the glass securely while Lucas sipped as much as he could. When the doctor decided Lucas had drank his fill he pulled the glass away and set it back on the table.

 

“What happened to Asadel?” Lucas ground out, licking his lips to dispel the dryness that had settled over him.

 

“He is currently in a holding cell.”

 

“Saved my life.” Lucas said as clearly as he could manage.

 

Meyer narrowed his eyes. “When he was brought in, he was covered in a significant amount of blood. Some of it was yours.”

 

“Yes,” Lucas replied. He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “That’s what happens when you save someone who also happens to be covered in blood.”

 

“Alright.” Meyer answered, slowly nodding his head. “I’ll get that taken care of. In the mean time, some of your friends would like to see you. Are you up for that?”

 

Lucas tried to smile. “Sure.”

 

Meyer took a step back and waved at someone Lucas couldn’t see, and within minutes John, Chris and Laura entered.

 

They took him in silently. John’s hands were clenched at his sides, and Chris could not meet his eyes. Finally Laura broke the silence, rushing forward with tears in her eyes and wrapping her arms around Lucas tightly.

 

Lucas suppressed the grunt of pain on the impact, and wrapped his arms around her too. Chris glanced at John and moved to Lucas’s other side, sitting partially on the bed and moving Lucas to lean against him, helping him sit up. Lucas smiled gratefully.

 

John looked at the three of them in turn, and then settled at the foot of the bed, one hand shifting to hold Lucas’s ankle. Lucas groaned. John jerked back.

 

He looked at his friend questioningly before pulling back the sheets and touching his bandaged ankles and thighs. “What happened?” He asked softly.

 

Lucas shifted against Chris’s shoulder. “They had me tied to this metal chair with wire and I figured I should try to escape.” He laughed shortly. “I ended up just cutting up my legs though.”

 

Laura touched his bandaged wrists. “Is that what happened here?”

 

“Yeah.” Lucas answered.

 

John dropped his eyes back to Lucas’s legs, and covered them with the sheet once more. He reached out his hand and touched where he knew there would be undamaged skin. “How did you get out?”

 

A grin tugged at Lucas’s mouth.

 

His friends stared at it in shock.

 

“You know that man they brought in with me?”

 

“Yeah.” Laura answered shortly. “They said he was covered in your blood.”

 

Lucas shook his head slowly. “Some of it was mine. Most of it was from the guy who did this to me. I never would have escaped without his help.”

 

Lucas had missed his friends while he was gone. To be honest, once he’d woken up in that cave he’d made his peace with the fact that he’d never see them again. Being here with them now helped it finally sink in that he was alive and safe. His friends stayed and talked to him for almost an hour, discussing what had happened and how he’d escaped. Lucas tired quickly of watching them twitch and flinch at every description, and soon moved the conversation around to what had happened on the base in his absence. He learned of the search efforts that had been launched, and of how the convoy had eventually found him.

 

Lucas was largely unsurprised to find out their discovery had been pure chance.

 

“You must have friends in high places,” John said softly.

 

Lucas smiled his foot pressing softly into John’s side. “Why are you so upset, John?”

 

John looked at him with wide eyes.

 

“You can hardly look at me.” Lucas murmured.

 

John clenched his eyes shut and breathed sharply. “It’s our fault they took you,” he finally said.

 

Behind him, Chris tensed and Laura looked away. “No.” Lucas said, his eyes dancing between his friends. “It was my decision to send you guys on. It was no ones fault that I got shot down. Heck,” he laughed, “if anything it’s my fault.”

 

Chris grabbed his arm sharply. “Don’t say that, Lucas.”

 

Lucas narrowed his eyes when Meyer walked up to his bed. “Alright guys, it’s time to go. You can see him again tomorrow.”

 

They sighed and disentangled themselves. John squeezed Lucas’s leg in parting and together the three walked out the door of the hospital.

 

Meyer waited until they reached the door before pulling back the covers on Lucas’s bed and checking his wounds. He changed a few bandages and checked for infections and once he was satisfied he covered Lucas with the sheet once more. “I’ve been to see Asadel,” he said conversationally as he made notes on the chart hanging off of Lucas’s bed.

 

Lucas’s head fell the side curiously.

 

Meyer grinned at the expression. “He’s being treated well. We finished cleaning the blood off of him and got him a change of clothing. Until we figure out the full story of what happened he’s being kept in a holding cell. He says he’s quite content to stay there and he’d like you to visit him as soon as you can safely leave this bed.”

 

“Finished cleaning the blood?”

 

“Yes. When you two were first brought in he was shoved into the cell without a second glance. He used the water available in his cell to clean himself. He did an adequate job, but we completed it for him.”

 

“Okay,” Lucas said. “When can I see him?”

 

Meyer frowned. “Even though you are not in critical condition, I would like you to stay here for at least one more day for observation. Then you have to go get debriefed with your commanding officer and then you will probably be free to go and see him.”

 

“Alright.” Lucas said. “Thanks.”

 

Meyer nodded and replaced his charts at the foot of his bed, walking out into the joining rooms.

 

Lucas smiled to himself as he settled back and closed his eyes.

 

\----------

 

Asadel hummed to himself as he counted the bricks on the ceiling for the thirty second time.

 

There was a deep clang off to the left, signifying a bolt sliding back and a heavy door opening. Soft footsteps began walking down the corridor.

 

Asadel closed his eyes and listened as the steps came closer. He knew who he hoped it was, but after three days he also knew it was just as likely to be another guard on patrol.

 

The footsteps slowed and came to a stop in front of his cell. Asadel sat up and opened his eyes.

 

Lucas smiled as Asadel leapt to his feet, crossing his cell in two wide strides and sticking his arms through the bars to pull Lucas as close as he could. Lucas matched him, his arms wrapping easily around Asadel’s shoulders.

 

Asadel was careful with his hold, trying to remember where all of Lucas’s injuries were, and avoiding placing pressure on them. “You had me worried, angel. You look like shit,” he breathed happily.

 

Lucas grinned and pulled back as he glanced down at himself. He was wearing sand colored fatigues over his legs, and a plain white shirt. The bandages he was covered in stood out starkly against his lightly tanned skin. “Maybe I do.” He carefully slipped his arms through the bars again and mirrored Asadel’s hold. “You know, I’ve never quite understood why you call me that.”

 

Asadel laughed, tucking his nose under Lucas’s chin, forcing the other man to bare his throat. “That first day I saw you? You were sleeping when I came in. I was surprised the door didn’t wake you, so I sat down in a corner and just watched you.”

 

“Wow,” Lucus mumbled sarcastically. “That’s not creepy and stalker like at all.”

 

Asadel tightened his hold warningly. “Hush. You were sitting tied to that horrible chair, and your wrists were bleeding these dark rivets down into that bloody puddle.”

 

“Yes, I do remember. I thought it was really weird that you never added to it.”

 

“It was big enough as it was.” Asadel growled. “You know it was weird, I was stuck in that cave for six years, and I’ve seen them bring in and break so many people. But that day you didn’t look like you were breaking; you never looked like you were. You always looked so… serene. Like nothing was wrong. I had to keep visiting you. I had to see you as much as I could before you died. I felt like… as long as I was with you nothing bad could happen.”

 

“To me or to you?”

 

“Both?” Asadel’s teeth skated down Lucas’s neck. “We talked about you a lot, you know. Every time someone had to go a round with you they’d come back and we would just talk about how nothing seemed to work. We thought you had to be some kind of angel to be so at ease in that den of death.”

 

Lucas’s hand darted out, fisting tightly in Asadel’s shirt and pulling his face flush against the bars. “Or maybe I was just some bird who lost his way.” He quickly moved forward, twining their lips.

 

Asadel’s hands wound up the iron between them, and slipped into Lucas’s hair, trying to meld their bodies into one.

 

“I thought you American folks had that no gays in the army thing going on.” Asadel breathed against Lucas’s lips before claiming his mouth once more.

 

“It’s called don’t ask don’t tell. And I don’t plan on telling.” Lucas panted. “What about you? I thought you guys would sooner kill a gay man than befriend him.”

 

“As you can see,” Asadel nipped Lucas’s lips playfully. “I’m not befriending you.”

 

With one final kiss, Lucas forced himself to pull back. “I’m getting them to release you.” He said quietly. “I was thinking I would… escort you home.”

 

“Are they really going to let you leave?”

 

“Well,” Lucas said with a small smile. “I’m being sent back to the United States since I was injured in the line of duty. I thought before I left I’d see you off.”

 

Asadel grinned brilliantly. “That sounds fantastic.”

 

Off to the side the heavy bang signaled the door opening. Lucas took a step back and smiled at the next person to walk in. Asadel listened to footsteps, waiting for them to walk into sight.

 

“It’s about time you got here.” Lucas said cheerfully.

 

“Christ Lucas, what’s got you so happy? I’ve never seen you smiling so much.”

 

Lucas cast Asadel a slightly embarrassed look. “Just happy to see you, John.”

 

The man Asadel assumed was John stopped in front of them, clasping Lucas’s hand warmly, and shooting him a distrustful look. “I take it this is Asadel.”

 

Lucas nodded, smiling again. John’s eyes narrowed. “Hey Lucas,” he said after a moment, “I’m sorry, I totally forgot the keys. Can you go grab the spares from David for me?”

 

“Oh,” Lucas said, drawing back. “Yeah, sure.” He turned and quietly walked away.

 

As soon as the door banged shut behind him John turned to Asadel. “What’s your game?”

 

“What?”

 

“Lucas. He says you saved his life, but I don’t buy it. There’s something about you. Something dark.” He took a menacing step forward. “If I find out you ever hurt Lucas they will never find your body.”

 

Asadel struggled to find his voice. He was saved when the door clanged open once again.

 

A cheerful female voice tittered happily as footsteps approached. “You forgot your keys, _again_ John?”

 

John took a step back. Asadel was finally able to breathe. John forced a smile. “You know me. Mr. Forgetful.”

 

“Right.” A beautiful red head answered. She dangled a set of keys in front of John’s face. “I borrowed them from David.” She dropped them into John’s hands and turned to the cell, her face serious. “So you’re Asasdel, huh?”

 

“Yes.” Asadel said slowly. He moved closer to the bars, sticking his arms through and leaning casually. He extended a hand. “And you are?”

 

The girl laughed and shook his hand firmly. “Laura. Nice to meet you.” She pointed causally over her shoulder. “That’s John, just in case he hasn’t introduced himself.”

 

John shrugged and stepped closer to Lucas, loosely wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “This is a great reunion and all. Where’s Chris? He’s missing out on all the fun.”

 

“Guess it’s just up to us then.”

 

They both focused on Asadel. Lucas rolled his eyes. “Seriously? That’s what this is all about?”

 

“Run along Lucas.” John said lowly. “We need to have a word with Mr. Asadel here.”

 

Once again a noise signaled the door open. “Sorry I’m late. What’s Lucas still doing here?”

 

“Shut up, Chris.”  
  


“No, seriously, Lucas. We need to have a private word. Go smoke or something.”  
  


“You know I don’t smoke.”  
  


John pulled out a red carton and knocked a cigarette lose. He placed it in Lucas’s hand. “Go start.” He pushed Lucas gently towards the door.

 

“You guys suck.” Lucas said as he walked back the way he came.

 

“Love you too!” Laura called after him.

 

They waited until the door shut behind Lucas to turn on Asadel.

 

“What are you doing with Lucas?” Chris asked, crossing his arms.

 

Asadel blinked and rearranged his stance, holding the bars with his fingertips as he looked at them seriously. “He’s escorting me home.”

 

“Yeah. We got that. Why is it he smiles so much around you? Are you taking advantage of him?”

 

“What?”

 

“Lucas never smiles.” John said quietly.

 

“But he does around you.” Chris finished.

 

“And that makes me a bad guy?” Asadel asked incredulously.

 

“You tell us.” Laura said. “What happened out there?”

 

“Hasn’t Lucas told you?”

 

“Not much. Not your part either, except for the escape bit. Do you honestly expect us to believe that you just came into his cell one day and decide to help him out? There is a history you two are keeping from us.”

 

Asadel nodded slowly. “There is a history, but I will not be the one to tell you. Your friend will when he is ready. If it really bothers you that bad, you can always ask him yourselves.”

 

The three watched him silently. Finally Chris grinned. “I like him.”

 

Laura punched his arm.

 

Asadel grinned. It was good to see the angel had people who cared about him. The tense air that had filled the room dissipated, and they had a light conversation about the differences between military life and civilian life. John laughed, as he wondered how Lucas would adjust to it. Asadel leaned forward interestedly.

 

“Lucas has always wanted to fly. It’s the only place where he feels at home.” Laura explained.

 

While Asadel processed this new information the door opened. “Can I come back in?” Lucas asked sarcastically.

 

John sighed. “I suppose.”

 

Laura moved forward and slipped the key into the lock, pulling the door aside. Asadel smiled thankfully and stepped through. For once Asadel was able to see what the others meant. Lucas’s expression did not change, but his eyes lit up.

 

His friends cast Asadel one more suspicious look and stepped back.

 

Lucas clapped a hand on Asadel’s shoulder. “I’ve asked my commanding officer to release me here rather than the states. They’re dropping us off at the nearest city, and then we can make our way to your village.”

 

Asadel glanced down at his issued clothing that stood out as a shock of orange against the back drop of the cell. “Do you have some clothes I could borrow?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Asadel followed Lucas closely as they walked out of the short building and into the sun.

 

The base was much more different than what he was expecting. It was open and strangely freeing; there was no feeling of fear anywhere. Cars and trucks crisscrossed the base as they moved along their way, and groups of soldiers laughed and chatted easily as they walked in all directions. Asadel looked behind them and noticed Lucas’s friends exit the building after them and head off towards the center of the base.

 

Lucas led Asadel to a small sheltered structure towards the interior of the base. It resembled a tent, and obviously moved slightly with the wind. Lucas pulled back a wide flap and ushered Asadel in.

 

Within the structure there were five bunk beds placed in a rough circle with large trunks at the ends. Lucas walked up to a trunk towards the middle, pulled back two straps, and lifted the lid.

 

Asadel moved forward in interest, his hand moving out unconsciously to caress the smooth ear of a stuffed bear wearing green fatigues and a black cloth hat as he looked at all of Lucas’s belongings.

 

Lucas hid a smile as Asadel pulled it out, fingering the cloth of its small uniform and the stitches holding it together. “It was a gift from my mother,” he said by way of an explanation.

 

Asadel smiled widely. “It fits.”

 

Lucas smacked his arm, and then reached into the trunk, pushing aside books and shifting through his clothing. Asadel frowned. “You are smaller than me, angel. I don’t think you’ll have anything for me.”

 

“Oh ye of little faith.” Lucas muttered, pulling out a pair of jeans and a black shirt. “Try these.”

 

Asadel rolled his eyes as Lucas politely turned his back. “I doubt I have anything you haven’t seen before.”

 

“Just giving you some privacy.”

 

Asadel took a step forward. “Maybe I don’t want privacy,” he breathed into Lucas’s ear.

 

Lucas elbowed him. “Get dressed.”

 

Asadel was rather surprised the clothes fit him. “Do I want to know why you have clothes like this on you?” He turned to Lucas and noticed the other man packing the contents of his trunk into a large duffle bag.

 

“It’s a long story.” Lucas said, tying down the top of the bag. “It involves my squad, a deck of cards and copious amounts of alcohol.”

 

Asadel grinned. “That sounds like a good night.”

 

Lucas shrugged. “You could say that. Most of the guys don’t remember it.” He looked up at Asadel, his face carefully blank. “Are you ready to go?”

 

Asadel grabbed Lucas’s bag from him and turned to walk out. “I’m always ready.”

 

They walked out and headed towards the gate where a box shaped truck stood waiting. A driver with dark sunglasses watched their approach.

 

Asadel tossed the duffle into the back and grinned as he saw John, Chris and Laura walked out of a building and towards them. He settled himself into a seat, hoping to make sure he was out of the way as the friends said their good byes.

 

When they finished, Lucas climbed in beside him and clapped a hand on the drivers shoulder. The truck growled to life, and they were off.

 

 


	9. Meanwhile in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While our boys are on Earth, things are happening upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I missed yesterday! You'll get two today!

Just as Gabriel said, the angels they spoke to quickly spread the word. Garrisons flew closer together as they went through the motions in the sky, talking about what the archangel had done.

 

At first many of the angels brushed it off as useless gossip, exaggerations of what had really taken place. Soon however, they all began to notice Castiel’s absence. The small angel who never missed a practice had not shown his face in a long time.

 

After the first missed drill session, his garrison had began to worry, a dark feeling settling in the bottom of their hearts. The rest of the angels laughed, knowing full well how tempting it was to miss a practice.

 

After the fifth missed session, they all knew something was wrong. Gabriel’s confession began to look more like truth, but despite this, none knew what they could do, what they _should_ do. Michael was the highest authority with the exception of God. What, if anything, could be done?

 

Garrison’s began to find themselves divided on the subject, some hoping to exact their revenge on the archangel and others hoping to fly under the radar least it happen to them.

 

Gabriel and Sam watched the distrustful looks angels began shooting each other. Sam’s tail flicked in agitation. “So, you were right.”

 

“Of course I was right.”

 

“What do we do now?”

 

“We should probably bring our brothers back.”

 

“No.” Sam said sharply. “We need a solid plan before we drag them back into this.”

 

“A solid plan? Sam, if we start planning Michael has even more time to catch on.”

 

“I don’t care, Gabe. Who knows what’s happening on Earth. Dean could have found Cas by now. They could be happy. I’m not letting you take that away from them until we know what the Hell we’re doing.”

 

Gabriel sighed, and looked at the sky. “I think the only thing we can do is pray for God’s guidance.”

 

“Damn you,” Sam growled. “You need to rely on _yourself_ not hope someone else steps in and takes care of it! You see those angels flying up there? You have an army! Use it!”

 

Gabriel’s frown darkened. “I will not drag the little ones into this.”

 

“Then let them join of their own volition!”

 

“I will not ask that of them.”

 

“I’m not telling you to _ask_ that of them, I’m telling you to let them decide for themselves.”

 

Gabriel shook his head, his gaze going back out over the gardens. He leaned back when a small group of angels landed in front of them. They looked at each other and silently chose one to step forward.

 

“Gabriel,” he said. “We are with you.”

 

Sam smirked. He liked being right.

 

A second joined him. “What would you have us do?”

 

Gabriel’s mouth fell open slightly, and he turned to Sam, his eyes wide. Sam looked at him with complete trust. Gabriel swallowed and turned back to the angels standing before him. “Use discretion. Find all those who are with us. Warn those who want no part in it not to interfere. Beware of those loyal to Michael. We will meet by the pools tomorrow after lights out.” The angel’s nodded, small smiles gracing their faces. “Go.”

 

As one they leapt into the sky.

 

“Who were they?”

 

“The first one to speak was Colopatiron. The second was Ezekiel.” Gabriel sighed, watching them go. “I hope we are prepared for this.”

 

“We will be.”

 

“We will be?” Gabriel laughed soundlessly. “We won’t. Michael will see us coming and he will crush us. And then all of those involved in this will suffer.”

 

“So what should we do?” Sam growled. “Nothing? What is to stop Michael from doing it again? What happens when we bring Cas and Dean back? What happens when Michael finds out?”

 

“You think I don’t want to help them?” Gabriel snarled.

 

“Certainly seems like it from this end.” Sam’s eyes darkened. Gabriel waited for them to turn black, but they never did. Sam swallowed and visibly calmed down. “I know you want to help them,” he said. “But you need to know that I will do whatever it takes to help my brother, even if you’re not with me on it.”

 

“Of course I’m with you on it,” Gabriel said angrily.

 

“Good. Then you need to figure out what we’re going to do. I know you’re afraid of Michael, but we’re with you. We’re all with you.”

 

Gabriel turned back to the sky. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

“Gabriel,” Sam said softly, his hands coming up to wrap behind the archangel’s neck, drawing their foreheads together. “All of those angels out there. The little ones. The soldiers. Whatever you want to call them. You know _all of their names_. You respect them, but more than that, you _love_ them. No one could lead them better than you.” Sam cringed and turned his face away. “I… have faith in you.”

 

Gabriel caught his chin and pulled him back. “You look cute when you make faces.”

 

“Oh shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes, and pressed his lips firmly to his angel’s.

 

\----------

 

Lucas made sure to keep an appropriate distance between himself and Asadel on the ride back. While he may have been released, he still doubted the military would overlook something as drastic as him making out in the backseat like a love sick puppy. He contented himself with hiding his eyes behind dark sunglasses and watching the sand and dunes fly by.

 

It felt exhilarating to feel the wind whipping through his hair, and wrapping around his body after spending so much time in a small confined room. In the back of his mind he wondered if this was the beginnings of PTSD, and if he’d ever be able to sit in a small room again. Privately he decided as long as he wasn’t back in a small rock room with a blood soaked floor tied to a damned chair, he’d be fine.

 

He glanced at Asadel and smiled at the other man watching him. He wanted to ask him so many questions. Questions about his hopes and his dreams, and questions about his future. Questions, in fact, about his current living arrangements… and if he’d be interested in changing them any time soon.

 

He chastised himself for falling for this man too quickly. During training they’d been warned about dangerous situations and how it was often easy to jump to rash decisions afterward; decisions like marriage and copious amounts of sex, perhaps not in that order. But Lucas was fairly certain this wasn’t the same thing. He just knew that he wanted to be around this man for the rest of his life, no matter where they decided to live, or who they decided to be, this was where he wanted to be. He could only hope Asadel felt the same; a twisting in his gut told him he was probably right.

 

Despite the glasses, Asadel seemed to know he was being watched, and he grinned widely. Lucas pretended to follow the flight of an imaginary bird, his head turning exaggeratedly slowly to look out the back of the truck.

 

He knew he’d been caught when Asadel laughed, and he felt a blush creep across his face.

 

Lucas was pleased to note they were not driving out to the same place they’d been found. He did not want to be anywhere near those mountains if he could help it. Instead they drove in almost the opposite direction, moving until the mountains were a tiny mound on the horizon. He wondered if this was the reason his superior officers had released him, and whether or not they would have if he’d be heading back to where he’d been held.

 

As the sun signaled noon, something appeared on the horizon. They came upon it quickly; it was a small village filled with short sand baked houses.

 

The truck slowed down and stopped near the outer most buildings. The driver waited until Lucas grabbed his bag and came around front to shake his hand. “Thank you for the smooth ride.”

 

The driver nodded and touched his hat in a soft salute. Lucas returned the gesture and the truck carefully turned around and headed back towards the base.

 

Lucas walked over to Asadel and bumped their shoulders before heading down the road into town. He looked down streets carefully as they walked. “I feel like I’m in some kind of B-rated horror movie.”

 

“What?”

 

“You know, those low budget horror moves? Where the protagonists enter a city or something and it looks like the whole place is empty and as they walk suddenly they hear some little kid laugh and then the streets are filled with zombies…”

 

“Zombies? Seriously?”

 

“What? Dude, zombies are scary.”

 

Asadel shook his head mournfully. “No. It makes perfect sense.”

 

Lucas nodded proudly. “I’m glad you see it my way. I mean, there’s that damned slow walk of theirs, and you just _know_ the second you turn your back they’re going to be sprinting after you, and what about that _brain_ thing –”

 

“No, _no_ , I _meant_ it makes sense for an angel to be afraid of the undead.”

 

Lucas punched him halfheartedly. “You suck.”

 

Asadel stopped and looked around. They’d reached a rather open part of the village and still had yet to see one person. “It was probably the truck.”

 

“What?” Lucas asked, coming to stop beside him.

 

“Either they thought it was raiders and they’re hiding, or they’re afraid of Americans. It’s one of the two.”

 

“Ah.” Lucas nodded vaguely. “Well, do you know the general direction you live in from here?”

 

Asadel frowned. “Maybe. It’d be better if we had a map or something.”

 

Lucas eyed the thin strings connecting roofs with colorful bits of clothing clipped in place, and the few carts that lay off-balanced behind a few buildings; he doubted they would find any help here. “Do you know the general direction? We could wait until nightfall and then follow the stars until we find a bigger town or something.”

 

Asadel hid his smile. “That sounds like a plan; but what do we do till then?”

 

Lucas waited a moment before replying. “Do you think this place has a bar?”

 

“Maybe. The better question is whether we’d be welcome there.”

 

“Whether _I’d_ be welcome there.”

 

Asadel gave him a hesitant look. “There is that.”

 

Lucas shrugged, shocked by his own good mood. “No harm in checking!”

 

The village did, in fact, have a bar though it did not openly sell any alcohol. Lucas knew it would. He remembered how well prohibition had gone over in the United States.

 

The bar was everything he hoped for; it was dark and cool, and blissfully empty.

 

The man behind the bar was wide set and had a very thick beard. He was cleaning a glass when they came in, and after passing a very judgmental look over both of them he set the glass down and greeted them warmly.

 

Lucas felt his chest rise in elation at the kind treatment, and grinned self deprecatingly when he asked for water in very broken Arabic. The bartender seemed very amused by his attempt, and gave him his order in a clean glass.

 

Asadel ordered something Lucas had never heard of, which looked like a very dark sludge.

 

They passed the hours till dusk, easily chatting with the owner.

 

Lucas discovered that his name was Nashat and that he had three daughters named Adila, Haziqah, and Nawel. Asadel almost choked when Nashat inquired about the number of wives he possessed. Lucas knew he shouldn’t, but he could not help but laugh.

 

The conversation took a lot of twists and turns, and eventually migrated to life in the United States, and the differences between the two countries. Despite what Lucas considered to be risky territory, their talk remained light throughout. Lucas sat contentedly in his seat, pleased to finally have a relaxed day.

 

As the sun went down, the two men stood to leave. Lucas approached Nashat and gripped his hand firmly. “Thank you for a wonderful day, and an enjoyable conversation.”

 

Nashat nodded, a wide grin on his face. “Of course, of course,” he said. “I would hope for the same if I visited some new place.”

 

Asadel walked up behind Lucas, his hand and arm mirroring the angels, coming to rest on Nashat’s arm, just above Lucas’s hand. “My friend.” He said. “Would you happen to have a map we could look at?”

 

Nashat spent a moment watching their hands against his arm before he nodded and walked to an old machine that was covered in rust and served as a register. He reached under it, and for a moment Lucas tensed, knowing in many American cities guns were kept there. Nashat’s hands searched for a moment, and then he rose with a battered piece of paper.

 

He returned to where they stood and spread it out on the bar. He pointed to a small dot on the map, close to where Syria pushed into the Iraqi boarder. “We are here.” Lucas struggled not to laugh at the phrase. “Where do you need to go?” He asked.

 

Asadel pointed to a spot in the southwest, near the boarder of Jordan. Nashat nodded. “Good luck on your journey.”

 

Asadel gave a slight bow, and then placed a hand at the small of Lucas’s back, leading him out.

 

As they exited the village, Lucas knew they were being watched. Lights peaking out of closed doors and windows, shadows giving away a watching body, or the sound of running feet as they approached gave away the people hiding in the deserted town.

 

Lucas was pleased when they finally exited into the cooling desert air. He breathed deep and exhaled in a happy sigh. He turned to face the southwest and selected a suitably bright star to follow. He slung his bag over his shoulder, and they stepped off.

 

“How long do you think it’ll take us?” Asadel asked softly, his feet crunching softly in the sand.

 

“Well,” Lucas said thoughtfully. “We need to travel two hundred seventy three miles. The average walking speed is about three miles per hour, so that means it will take us around ninety-one hours, which is roughly four days.”

 

“Four days? That’s not bad.” Asadel said, suddenly very pleased.

 

Lucas rolled his eyes. “It would be four days if we walked, literally, twenty four hours a day. We will be walking, maybe twelve hours a day.”

 

“Okay.” Asadel said slowly. “So, eight days?”

 

Lucas nodded. “More or less.”

 

Asadel grinned, tugging Lucas close and looping an arm around his waist. “Hm... you know, eight days doesn’t sound that bad.”

 

Lucas smothered a grin and allowed his arm to fall on Asadel’s shoulders. “At least the company won’t be dull.”

 

The walk took them nine days.

 

They tried to walk at night whenever possible, huddling together under a small canvas sheet that acted as a rudimentary tent during the day. Every night they walked closer and closer together, their hands brushing and twining as they shared quiet conversations, each trying to learn everything they could about the other.

 

Some nights they walked well into the morning as Asadel attempted to teach Lucas more Arabic. He still found it hilarious that the American spoke so many languages, but knew so little of the native tongue of the country to which he’d been sent.

 

Some nights they stopped early, Asadel pushing Lucas down into the sand beneath him, and proceeding to learn everything he could about his angel’s body. Lucas knew without a shadow of a doubt what this was, and he quietly wondered if Asadel knew as well.

 

On the fifth day as they lay beneath their small shelter, Lucas pinned Asadel down, trapping his wrists above his head as he watched him. “I love you.” He said quietly.

 

Asadel’s eyes darkened and he flipped them over easily, capturing Lucas’s lips, his hands gripping his jaw tightly, holding him in place, refusing to give an inch. When they finally broke apart gasping for air Asadel latched onto Lucas’s neck, licking and biting until a vivid bruise blossomed. “I love you too.” He ground out, his hands quickly divesting Lucas of his clothing as he moved between his thighs. Lucas grinned and returned the favor, his hands taking the time to map out Asadel’s chest before they were captured again.

 

“I think you like holding me down.” Lucas drawled lazily, arching beneath Asadel’s touch.

 

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Asadel asked darkly, his mouth trailing down to nip at his collarbone.

 

“Call it a lucky guess.” Lucas said, flexing his wrists, grinning when Asadel tightened his hold. He felt Asadel smile against his skin and move to mouth at bandages, placing kisses over every wound, and paying special attention to the ones he had inflicted himself.

 

“Maybe I just like making you hold still.”

 

Lucas squirmed beneath him defiantly. Asadel quickly shifted his hold, capturing both of Lucas’s wrists with one hand, as his other started poking him in mock annoyance. Eventually he released his hold completely and fell to the ground beside Lucas, drawing him into a loose embrace as their lips met lazily.

 

Beneath the canvas tent time seemed to stand still; they fell into each other again and again, neither wanting to break apart and find themselves alone again.

 

\----------

 

Gabriel sat in his room, watching the light play off his brother’s porcelain skin. All of his wounds had been healed, but the vision was ruined as the angel’s dark eyelashes resembled bruises under his eyes. Despite the strength he knew the angel had, he looked so small and fragile lying in the white pool of the clean robes Gabriel had wrapped him in. The archangel had done his best to mend Castiel’s wings, and they lay spread out beneath him; Gabriel was sure if his brother had been awake he would be feeling a slight twinge of pain from being locked in that position for so long. Dean lay curled up beside him, blanketed in feathers. His tail had long since stilled, but it still was locked around Castiel’s thigh tightly.

 

When he felt the time drawing near, he rose and placed a small kiss to his brother’s forehead. Sam met him at the door and together they walked out to the pools in the garden.

 

Gabriel stopped in shock at the sight he was greeted with.

 

So many angels were seated before him; nearly all of heaven’s angels were there. Despite the fact that many were seated around pools of water, none looked within its depths; all of their eyes were locked on the archangel.

 

Sam quietly untangled his tail from Gabriel’s wrist, and moved into the crowd, sitting down amongst them, and watching the archangel with rapt attention.

 

Gabriel’s eyes swept his audience.

 

From the crowd a voice raised high and clear. “Is it true, Gabriel? Did Michael really…?”

 

“Yes.”

 

A murmur spread out through the crowd. Gabriel held out his hands for silence, and received it quickly. “I hope you all realize what will happen when Michael discovers we are standing against him. Please, if you are not comfortable with what we are about to do, leave now.”

 

Gabriel waited a few minutes, expecting at least a fourth of them to rise. When no one moved he frowned. “I’m not playing around here. Michael will try to destroy us all. You cannot all be willing to sacrifice yourselves!”

 

The angels watched him seriously, determination written in their eyes.

 

Gabriel shook his head and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and realized what he had to do. He looked out at the angels with steely eyes. “Michael has grown distant from the host. He no longer recognizes that we are all brothers, that we are all connected. I am no better than any of you and we all need to know that, Michael needs to know that. Now I need you all to understand that Michael is my responsibility, so I will confront him. I want to thank you for your support, but I would not be able to live with myself if anything happened to you all.”

 

An angry murmur ran through the crowd. He held his hands up for silence. “We’re going with you!” Came an angry shout.

 

Gabriel frowned deeply and nodded once. He turned and turned around, walking quickly. The other angels quickly moved until they were on his heels. Sam jumped forward, getting as close to Gabriel as he could. “Where are we going?”

 

“We need to wake Dean and Cas.”

 


	10. Family Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asadel takes Lucas to visit his family while matters in heaven reach a breaking point.

On the eighth day they came over a rise and saw the bright lights of a small town laid out before them.

 

Lucas began walking forward when Asadel caught his arm, halting him. “Wait.”

 

“What?” Lucas asked.

 

“Maybe we should wait.”

 

Lucas looked between the lights and Asadel. “Uh… why?”

 

Asadel was twitching in agitation, looking everywhere but Lucas’s eyes. He turned, walking away back into the desert. Lucas watched him in shock before jumping forward and catching his collar. “Whoa, hold on. What’s going on?”

 

Asadel clenched his eyes shut. “I can’t… I can’t go back.”

 

Lucas’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Again, why?”

 

“I haven’t seen my father in seven _years_. Do you know how many people I’ve tortured, I’ve broken, I’ve _killed_ in that time? How can I even begin to explain that to him?”

 

“Hey.” Lucas said soothingly, drawing Asadel into his arms. His hands worked smoothly down the other man’s back and shoulders as Asadel stood stiffly in his arms. “It’ll be alright. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

 

“What happens when my father orders me to leave you?”

 

Lucas blinked, pulling back in surprise. “Why would he do that?”

 

Asadel stared at him knowingly.

 

“Ah. Right.”

 

Something rose in Asadel’s eyes, and he grabbed Lucas’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “Let’s leave together. Let’s just keep walking. We can go anywhere in the world, Lucas. Let’s just keep going.”

 

Lucas brought his hands up to frame Asadel’s face. “It’s your father, Asadel. He will understand.”

 

“But what if he doesn’t?” Asadel asked softly. “What if he shuns me? What if he disowns me?”

 

Lucas smiled warmly. “Then I will be here for you. You will not be alone.”

 

Asadel looked passed Lucas’s shoulder to the lights beyond. “Alright,” he said softly. “Alright.”

 

Lucas caught Asadel’s hand and tugged him forward, back towards the seas of lights. Asadel quickly shifted his hand and pulled Lucas to a halt. Lucas looked at him inquisitively. “Can we just…maybe… wait? Until tomorrow?”

 

Lucas shook his head, and smiled indulgently. “Yes, alright. Tomorrow then.”

 

They set up the tent quickly and climbed within. Asadel wrapped himself around Lucas, hiding his face in the other mans neck. Lucas took his time petting his hands down Asadel’s back until unconsciousness claimed him.

 

When the sun came up Asadel turned away from it, still hiding his face.

 

Lucas kept still and watched the sun patiently, waiting for Asadel to rise first. He knew the other man was awake from the way he squirmed in the light, but he did not want to push the subject.

 

Asadel waited as long as he could, but eventually pressure in his bladder forced him to rise.

 

While the other man was preoccupied Lucas packed up the tent and moved to the top of the rise, admiring the way the town spread out below him. He knew Asadel was watching him, and felt when he walked up beside him. “Ready?” He asked.

 

Asadel frowned bitterly. “As I’ll ever be.”

 

Lucas threaded his hand through Asadel’s arm and pressed a kiss to his ear. “Everything is going to be alright.”

 

Asadel tried to fight a small smile. Lucas grinned when he failed, and the smile grew bigger.

 

Asadel recognized the area quickly, finding paths he used to walk as a child, and old boards around rocks where he’d hung out with his friends. Occasionally he’d stop their progress to point these areas out and tell old stories about his life growing up. Lucas listened raptly, enjoying learning about the things that made Asadel who he was.

 

As they came closer to the town, a few small children peaked around a fence. Lucas smiled kindly, the look fading to a frown when they flinched back. Asadel placed a hand on his arm, and dropped to a crouch, speaking softly in Arabic. The kids responded to his words, carefully coming forward.

 

A little girl looked shyly at her friends and walked up to Lucas, holding out a hand. Lucas accepted it solemnly. “Hello.”

 

The girl grinned, delighted. “Hallo.” She said with a very heavy accent.

 

Many of the boys gave her an annoyed look, and watched Lucas with distrust.

 

He shook his head and picked the girl up easily, settling her in his arms. She laughed happily and placed her hands on his face. Lucas grinned. “.مرحبا ، الأميرة”

 

Hearing this, a few of the boys in the group started to smile and moved to join her, tugging at Lucas’s shirt and pants to get his attention.

 

Asadel laughed quietly. “Hello, princess?”

 

“Every girl is a princess to someone.”

 

Asadel rolled his eyes, and started towards a low stone wall that hid a wide dirt road. Lucas carefully set the girl down and ruffled a boy’s hair before following, the children trailing them closely.

 

People, for the most part, took no notice of them as they walked by. A few women out hanging laundry gave pause to Lucas’s fatigues, a few calling to their children sharply. As their friends were pulled away, the rest stopped, watching the two progress down the street from their mothers doorsteps. “Don’t mind them,” Asadel muttered. “It’s nothing personal.”

 

Lucas nodded once, his eyes busy taking in everything, every person, every angle, looking for any weapons or signs of attack. Asadel was too absorbed in his fear to notice. As they walked further into town, away from the open desert and closer to the main cluster of buildings Asadel began to slow. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered. Lucas frowned at his tone, casually putting his hands in his pockets as his eyes continued to dart between buildings and alleys. Asadel glanced at him and smirked. “That worried we’re going to be attacked?”

 

“Never hurts to be careful.” Lucas said softly.

 

“I’m surprised you don’t carry a gun,” Asadel said sarcastically, twitching nervously.

 

“I should,” Lucas answered seriously.

 

“You should,” Asadel agreed, eying the bandages on Lucas’s wrists.

 

Lucas turned to Asadel, giving him his complete attention. “Which house is yours?”

 

Asadel breathed out sharply, his eyes quickly passing over the surrounding buildings to focus on one a little further down the road.

 

“That one?” Lucas asked softly.

 

Asadel nodded and slowly began to walk forward. Lucas stayed a step behind him, silently offering his strength.

 

It was soon, too soon, when they finally found themselves in front of a thick door. Asadel placed his hand on the worn wood, feeling the warmth of it beneath his hand. Behind it they could hear the faint sound of voices. From their pitch, Lucas knew them to be female.

 

“My sisters,” Asadel said quietly, hearing it too.

 

Lucas swallowed and took a step forward, resting a hand on Asadel’s shoulder. Asadel looked at him briefly before lifting his hand and knocking. There was silence on the other side of the door. Then it was opening slowly, a beautiful woman in a fitted grey robe with a dark blue hijab and an elegant black veil over her face standing in the doorway. “Asadel?”

 

Asadel tried to smile. “Hello, mother.”

 

The woman’s eyes were wide, the rest of her expression hidden from interpretation.

 

“Mama?” Came a voice from inside.

 

She finally blinked, shaking her head to clear whatever thoughts had clouded her mind, and then she was pulling them both inside, fussing over Asadel desperately, as though she couldn’t quite believe he was there.

 

“Mother,” Asadel said, catching her hands where they fumbled with his clothing. “This is Lucas. Lucas, this is my mother, Wasimah.”

 

“Any friend of Asadel is welcome in this house.” She said bowing, her voice deep and lyrical. She turned to walk deeper into the house. Lucas was unsure of what to do, so when Asadel laid a hand against his back and guided him forward he followed easily.

 

The house was not large, but the furniture was arranged in such a way that it looked open and inviting. Beautiful rugs covered the stone floor, and brilliantly colored scarves hung like drapes around the windows. There was a low table in the main room, with two young women sitting around it on plush pillows, an open book lying open between them. They both wore fitted robes and black hijab’s, though neither wore a veil. They looked up when the three entered.

 

There was silence for a moment, and then the girls were on their feet, throwing themselves into Asadel’s arms. Asadel struggled to embrace them both, whispering soft words as his sisters held on tight. Lucas stood back in the doorway watching their reunion, unwilling to intrude. Wasimah moved to stand beside him. “How do you know our Asadel?” She asked as she watched her son.

 

Lucas felt a smile touch his lips as he watched Asadel’s back. “He saved my life.”

 

Wasimah looked at him sharply. “He will have to tell us the story sometime.”

 

Asadel broke away from his sister’s arms and returned to Lucas’s side, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “He exaggerates, mother,” he said gruffly, clearing his throat and straitening his back.

 

Lucas’s eyebrows jumped in surprise, but Asadel moved on before he could protest. “Where is father?”

 

“He is out at the market, Asadel. He should be back in an hour or so.”

 

Asadel nodded, worrying his lips between his teeth. “Oh,” he said. “Lucas, these are my sisters, Aleena and Huda. Aleena is your age, and Huda is nineteen.”

 

Lucas bowed to them. “It is an honor to meet you both. Asadel speaks very highly of you.”

 

They both smiled shyly.

 

Lucas could see the smile in Wasimah’s eyes as she placed an arm on his shoulder and lead him further into the room and pressed him down into a pillow around the table. Asadel sat beside him, his sisters settling on his other side.

 

When they were settled, Wasimah gracefully walked into a side room, appearing soon after with a try of tea cups and a beautifully crafted pot. She set a cup before each person, and laid one at the head of the table for when her husband arrived. Once she’d filled each cup with tea, she sat back and carefully removed her veil. Lucas watched her in fascination. He could see plainly that Asadel was her son.

 

Wasimah smiled. “You are obviously important to my son, Lucas. Tell us about yourself.”

 

Asadel made a noise. “Mother, shouldn’t we wait until father arrives?”

 

Huda pouted. “But we want to know more about your friend.”

 

“You will learn soon enough, little sister. I don’t want to make him tell the story twice.”

 

“Then what do _you_ suggest we talk about in the meantime?” Aleena asked, sipping her tea.

 

Asadel’s smile faltered as he thought of all things he could say, all the things he would _need_ to say before the day was out. He looked at Lucas, seeing himself being thrown out of the house he’d been dreaming about every night that he'd been gone. He carefully painted a carefree smile on his face that he knew Lucas would never believe and turned to his sister with feigned happiness. “Why don’t _you_ tell me what’s happened around here while I’ve been away?”

 

His sister’s took turns telling a wide range of stories, some mundane, and some exciting or depressing. Lucas let the words wash over him as he sipped at the dark liquid in his cup. He didn’t know any of the people in the stories, and in his head he gave them imagined bodies and personalities as they enacted the actions the girls described. Many of the stories were in Arabic as the young women exhausted their knowledge of English; Lucas caught what he could, but much of it passed over his head. There were a few times during their stories when Asadel’s hand would twitch towards Lucas before he caught himself. Wasimah watched this carefully.

 

As the stories began to slow, Wasimah placed a hand over Lucas’s. “Have you heard much of Asadel’s childhood, Lucas?”

 

Lucas smiled politely. “Yes, Asadel has told me many stories.”

 

His sisters grinned wickedly. “I bet he hasn’t told you every story.”

 

Asadel slowly closed his eyes as he groaned. “Okay, I changed my mind. Let’s talk about anything but that.”

 

For a moment Lucas thought Aleena was going to protest and take the natural sister step in teasing a sibling, but Huda caught her arm, and they were both shaken out of the joy from moments ago as they recalled the year their brother left, and as they recalled the terror they’d felt when his letters stopped coming, and the six years of silence that followed. “Whatever you want to talk about is perfectly fine, brother.” Aleena said softly.

 

“Please,” Huda said, edging forward as she tried to catch Asadel’s eye. “Let’s talk about where you’ve been.”

 

Asadel’s teeth clenched shut, as he ducked his head. Lucas placed a hand on his shoulder in support. Slowly Asadel reached up and covered it with his own, trying to draw strength from the contact. Wasimah smiled faintly. Asadel closed his eyes and swallowed, resigning himself to it.

 

He started his story exactly when he left home. He talked about all of the places he’d visited and the people he’d met, the adventures he’d had. His sisters laughed in all the right places, but beneath the surface of their amusement, everyone was tensed with anticipation, knowing that soon the story would lose its happy tone, but none knowing exactly when the darkness would hit.

 

As his first year was drawing to a close, Asadel’s story ground to a halt. They all waited in silence for him to continue. A full minute passed before he began again. This time his story was dark and halted. As he moved forward, many parts were clearly censored.

 

Occasionally Huda would interject, not understanding why some things had been glossed over. Usually Asadel’s explanation deepened the silence around the table.

 

Lucas watched Asadel’s face as he spoke, reading the pain and the regret. He understood better than anyone else could what Asadel had gone through. He winced when Asadel explained when he broke, his own desire to return home outweighing his desire to die.

 

His story halted again.

 

This time when he resumed his eyes remained locked on Lucas as he talked about being taught to torture and the first time he picked up a knife. He ducked his head bitterly when he described the exact moment he discovered he’d become the best of all the men there. He breathed harshly, unwilling to look up for a long moment. Lucas wasn’t sure what his family was making of it as he refused to look away from Asadel.

 

Slowly Asadel raised his eyes, fear and sadness radiating from him. He stared at Lucas, begging for forgiveness. Lucas refused to drop his gaze, hoping Asadel would understand.

 

Aleena’s hand crept forward. Asadel flinched when it touched him, lurching back in shock. At the hurt in his sister’s eyes, he quickly swept her hand up. Tears stood in her eyes, and once she had Asadel’s attention she slowly moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tightly. Huda moved around behind him, mirroring her sister’s hold. “What happens next?” She asked.

 

“Hm?”

 

“In your story. What happens next?”

 

Asadel shook his head with a laugh. “You really want more?”

 

“Of course.” Huda said, a happy lilt to her voice. “But it has to get better soon, because you’re here now, right?”

 

Asadel laughed. “Right, Huda. Right.”

 

“So go on.” Aleena said, patting Asadel’s cheek as she returned to her seat. She tugged on Huda’s arm until her sister joined her.

 

When Asadel failed to begin, Huda leaned forward. “So. Then.”

 

“So then. Lucas showed up.”

 

Lucas froze when all the eyes turned to him. He shrank back as the women began looking at him closely for the first time, taking in the healing cuts on his face and the bandages covering most of his visible skin. He turned to Asadel, desperate to be saved from the scrutiny, but the other man watched him just as closely.

 

They all turned when the door behind them clicked open. Lucas watched the new man carefully. He wore a subtly stylish suit that conveyed power and intelligence, and thin black rimmed glasses. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes taking them all in, and freezing on Asadel.

 

Asadel pushed himself to his feet. “Hello father.”

 

Faheem crossed the room quickly and pulled his son into a hard embrace. He pulled back just as quickly, his eyes falling on Lucas. “Let us continue this in my study.”

 

Asadel nodded, and stepped around his father into another section of the house. Faheem bowed to Lucas and extended a hand. Lucas returned the gesture. “You are a welcome guest in my house.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Lucas said respectfully.

 

Faheem smiled at his wife and turned to join Asadel.

 

Once the door closed Huda and Aleena pulled him back into the conversation. Lucas stuttered a few words, unsure as to whether or not he should go on. After a few moments Wasimah took his hand gently between her own. “Please continue.”

 

Lucas frowned, her hands feeling impossibly warm against his, and he told them. When he finished the room was silent.

 

Lucas watched his cold tea absently, and jumped when the door behind them opened.

 

“Lucas,” Asadel said, beckoning him over.

 

“Thank you for the tea.” Lucas said before quickly joining the other man. Asadel closed the door quietly behind them.

 

Faheem sat behind a dark desk. Asadel moved to stand off to the side, his eyes darting to Lucas before he focused on the red rug on the floor. “So you are the one my son has been talking about.” Faheem said slowly.

 

Lucas was rather taken aback by this, but recovered quickly. “I must be, yes.”

 

Faheem stood, and walked around the desk circling Lucas once before returning to lean against the old wood. “He has been looking for you for a long time.”

 

Lucas glanced at Asadel and smiled tightly. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for him to find me.”

 

Faheem watched Lucas over the top of his glasses. He opened his mouth to speak when the room filled with a blinding white light. He and Asadel jerked back, their arms coming up to shield their eyes.

 

When the light faded marginally Asadel saw Lucas hanging limp almost a full foot off the ground, his back bowed forward as two ribbons of sparking electricity crossed threw him, leaving black scars on the floor and ceiling. Something black and inky hung heavy behind him, resembling very crude wings.

 

“Lucas!” Asadel shouted, rushing forward. His hand barely grazed his arm when the light vanished and Lucas fell to the floor; Asadel caught him before his head could connect with the hard stone beneath them. “Lucas.” He whispered urgently, shaking his shoulders as Lucas’s head rolled limply between his legs.

 

Faheem stared at Lucas, breathing harshly. Asadel turned to him desperately. Faheem got his breathing under control and carefully got to his knees, his eyes tracing the dark burns around them.

 

The American had yet to remain consciousness, and Faheem noticed his chest was not rising or falling. As his chest filled with dread, he pressed a hand to Lucas’s throat.

 

There was no plus beneath his palm.

 

A deep frown covered his face when he looked up at his son. “I’m sorry, Asadel,” he said, his soft voice seeming incredibly loud in the silent room.

 

They both jerked in surprise as Lucas gasped violently, his eyes opening wide as he began struggling in earnest against Asadel’s and Faheem’s hands. Asadel’s breath caught in shock, his arms automatically wrapping around Lucas tightly, restraining his arms and pulling him back against his chest. “Lucas?” Asadel panted, his voice strained. “Can you hear me?” Lucas’s breathe came in stutters, his eyes darting across the room in fear as he tugged weakly in Asadel’s hold.

 

Faheem placed a heavy hand on his chest. “Breathe. Breathe,” he said slowly.

 

Lucas locked eyes with him, trying to obey. Behind him Asadel mirrored his actions, his chest rising and falling slowly, encouraging Lucas to follow him. Once he’d calmed, Lucas nodded, and Asadel loosened his arms, though he refused to withdraw completely. Likewise, Faheem kept his hand placed firmly on Lucas’s chest. “Lucas, are you alright?”

 

Lucas turned his gaze to Asadel for the first time since he’d fallen, his hand coming up to hold on to his arm, as though he feared this was all an illusion. Aasdel tried to be as reassuring as he could; he had no idea what had just happened, but it was the fear standing in Lucas’s eyes that was far more terrifying than any light show could be.

 

Behind them Asadel heard a shifting of air and footsteps soft enough that for a moment he thought he had to be imagining them. He jumped when a hand reached over his shoulder to rest against Lucas’s neck, tilting his head back.

 

Lucas’s eyes locked onto the new person, a blank look on his face. Asadel tried to turn, but a force against his back prevented him. Instead he looked at his father, drawing Lucas tighter against his chest. He began to feel worried when he could not recognize the expression in Faheem’s eyes.

 

The stranger’s hand dropped away from Lucas, allowing his head to loll back against Asadel’s shoulder, and then the strong force behind him was gone. Asadel quickly grasped the opportunity to look.

 

The man was… there was no word for it. He was shorter than himself, wavy brown hair catching around his ears, and bright, piercing brown eyes. It was his skin that gave Asadel pause however. Beneath his skin golden light danced, giving him an ethereal glow. “It’s time for you and Castiel to come back, Dean.”

 

Asadel was at a loss for words.

 

“What are you?” Faheem asked, his hands moving to shield Aasdel protectively.

 

The man smiled. “I am Gabriel.”

 

“As in, the archangel?” Asadel asked incredulously.

 

Gabriel smiled. “Yes.”

 

Asadel looked away from the creature standing in the room with him. In his arms, Lucas’s eyes were wide and sightless; Asadel placed a hand under his chin, needing to reassure himself that he was still alive. “Who is Castiel?” He asked.

 

Gabriel’s smile softened, and he moved forward, disentangling Lucas from where he lay between Faheem and Asadel. They did not wish to let him go, but they were powerless to stop Gabriel from withdrawing him. Asadel moved to fight for him, but Faheem pulled him back quickly, moving himself and his son back until they connected with the wooden desk.

 

Gabriel placed Lucas on his feet, catching him when his knees buckled and he began falling forward. Asadel watched as the… angel… thing… whatever it was, placed his hands over the matching scars he’d found on Lucas’s chest and hip; he’d always thought they looked like hand prints. “I need you to wake up, brother.” Gabriel said.

 

There was a crackling in the air as Lucas gasped, the air becoming trapped in his throat, as his body arched painfully and his eyes rolled back. It was over in an instant.

 

Lucas stumbled forward, catching himself reflexively, his hands coming to rest over Gabriel’s. “Brother?” He said.

 

His voice was still what Asadel recognized as his, but it seemed to take on a deeper quality, an older quality. “Lucas?” He asked.

 

Lucas turned to him, his eyes filled with the same bright quality of Gabriel’s, electrifying his blue eyes, a soft white light dancing beneath his skin. He moved forward on graceful feet, and knelt before the two men pressed back against desk. Before Asadel could speak, Lucas drew him into a deep kiss. Behind him he felt his father’s arms tighten.

 

“Dean.” Lucas breathed. Aasdel’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then Gabriel was next to them, pressing a hand to the side of his head. And then Asadel _knew_.

 

“Castiel,” he whispered in awe, launching himself in Lucas’s arms, tackling him to the floor. For a moment he was confused that he seemed to be lacking a tail, and his angel was lacking wings, and then it hit him, and he remembered everything as all of his memories slotted into place. With a sour expression he turned to Gabriel. “You couldn’t haven given us a little more time? I was hoping we could get married.”

 

Castiel laughed, pulling Dean down again. “Don’t change the subject,” Dean spoke roughly against his lips. “I have the feeling you’d look so pretty in white.”

 

“You always see me in white,” Castiel chided as his hands traced over Dean as though seeing him for the first time.

 

“Details,” Dean said, his teeth working over Castiel’s jaw.

 

“Asadel?” Faheem whispered. Dean froze and his eyes focused on the man who was rapidly solidifying in his mind once more.

 

Dean stood, tugging at the clothing that now felt awkward against his skin. He reached down and helped Castiel to his feet. Dean bit his cheek, as he watched Faheem’s feet. He still craved this man’s love and respect. He had no idea what he could possibly say.

 

Castiel did not like seeing Dean upset. He closed his eyes and flexed his grace, wings appearing behind him, feathers traced out in a pure light. He drew them around Dean, protecting him. Dean visibly calmed. “Father,” he said, his hand catching Castiel’s hand. “This is my angel.”

 

Faheem stood and bowing carefully. A smile touched Castiel’s mouth as he returned the gesture.

 

“And now it’s time for us to go.” Gabriel said.

 

“Wonderful.” Dean said.

 

“What’s going on?” Castiel asked.

 

Dean grinned viciously. “It’s time to go check on Michael.”

 

Castiel’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

 

“Because of what he did to you, Cas. Do you remember what happened?”

 

“Of course I remember. But why does it matter?”

 

Dean snarled, baring his teeth. Gabriel laid a hand on his arm, and looked at Castiel seriously. “Because we love you, Cas. Now let’s go. We’ve got work to do.”

 

Castiel nodded and Gabriel spread his wings, vanishing with the sound of rushing wind. Dean crossed the room carefully, still feeling off center with out his tail to balance him. He wrapped his arms around Faheem. “Good bye, father.”

 

Faheem held onto him tightly. “I always knew you were special.”

 

Dean chuckled and stepped back, stepping into Castiel’s waiting arms. The angel smiled at Faheem and spread his wings. They vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left to go!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	11. And in the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ultimate show down

When they touched down in heaven, Dean grinned and touched Castiel’s face. The angel looked like himself again – skin as white as marble accented only by his dark hair. From the way Castiel looked at him, he knew the angel shared his feelings. Dean laughed. “Your eyes look the same,” he looked around. “Where are we?”

 

For the first time since they’d been there, Castiel took in their surroundings. There were very few places in Heaven where he had not been, but this was one of them. He shrugged and caught himself, mentally chiding himself for the distinctly human gesture. He shot a small self deprecating smile at Dean and shook out his wings. They felt stiff, and a few of his feathers had fallen out of place. He carefully reached out to fix them. His hand was stilled quickly.

 

He looked down. Dean’s tail was tightly wrapped around his wrist. Dean grinned. Castiel scowled. Dean reached behind him and moved as to fix the feathers; instead he messed up a few more.

 

Castiel growled, launching himself at Dean and flipping the demon on his back. Dean languidly wrapped his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. They both stilled as a large hand wrapped around Castiel’s neck and pulled the angel back hard enough to knock him up on his feet. Once the hand was gone, his momentum continued carrying him backwards. He stopped when he connected with a firm chest. He jumped instantly into defensive mode, his hands coming up to fight. Gabriel grinned. “You got back fast.”

 

In an instant Castiel’s arms were wrapped around Gabriel’s neck.

 

Dean smiled at the pair, letting out a surprised grunt when he found himself with a lap filed with his brother. “Sammy,” he breathed.

 

Sam nuzzled into his neck. “I missed you, Dean.” Dean laughed. “Did you and Cas find each other down there?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said happily. He stilled for a moment. “What’s been happening up here? Why did you guys cut us off so quickly?”

 

“We’re meeting with the angels who are willing to stand up to Michael tonight. We thought you guys should be here.”

 

Suddenly a thought struck. Dean jerked up, his head almost connecting with Sam’s. “Gabriel!”

 

Gabriel lifted his head up from where it was nestled against Castiel’s. “What, Dean-o?”

 

“Cas’s grace. Is it… fixed?”

 

Castiel frowned down at his chest curiously as Gabriel lightly pressed a hand to his heart. The angel’s head fell back with a light gasp as he began to glow, light emanating from his very core.

 

Gabriel released him with a smile and drew the small angel back into his arms, his head fitting back against his. “He’s fixed.”

 

Castiel all but purred, burrowing into his brother once more. Sam and Dean could only stare. Eventually Gabriel noticed their attention. “…what?”

 

Sam and Dean instantly adopted innocent postures. “Nothing! Nothing.” The brothers shared a guilty look that slowly morphed into something else. As one they rose, wrapping their arms around the angels, joining the embrace.

 

Dean lost track of time as his arms burrowed into the warmth beneath Castiel’s wings and his brother’s tail twined with his before pressing firmly against the angels.

 

Finally Gabriel broke them apart. “It’s time for us to go.”

 

Sam nodded, and put a little space between their bodies. He winked at his brother, and turned, walking with Gabriel to the door with a confident stride to his step.

 

Dean watched them for a moment and then wrapped his tail around Castiel tightly and he joined their hands. As they walked to the door, he contemplated Michael, and the destruction he might rein down upon them. He looked down and watched the way his hands joined with Castiel’s, and silently vowed to protect his angel from any harm Michael might wish upon him.

 

The building was dark; the natural lights subdued to allow the soldiers the semblance of night. Their steps were light as they walked along a long corridor.

 

The walk was not unusual for Castiel, it was something he had done almost every day for the majority of his existence. For some reason, in this moment it seemed exceptionally long; the hallway reaching out in unheard of lengths. Dean rubbed lightly at his fingers, and he came back to himself, his steps regaining their confidence.

 

Outside the courtyard was dark, the mirrored pools giving off a soft light that penetrated the darkness surrounding them.

 

Gabriel stopped at the entrance to the gardens, observing the legions of angels standing at attention as they awaited his arrival. Each wore armor of gold and crimson, the metal forged to appear as the flesh beneath. Their gauntlets were silver and gleaming in the light, matched by silver accents along their calves. Every angel had a preferred weapon strapped within easy reach, and each had long swords strapped to their sides.

 

Gabriel closed his eyes. When they opened he was wrapped in armor similar to the soldiers. It glinted in silver and onyx with a crimson cape draped elegantly over one shoulder.

 

He flexed his graze quickly, sending it out in all directions as it searched for Michael’s. He found it in the palace, in the large monastery where angels often visited when they wished to speak with God. He strode through the center of the assembled angels towards the large beautiful structure that may not have been the center of heaven, but was certainly its heart.

 

As he passed them the angels turned and followed.

 

They moved quickly down the street, the angels filling it up as more and more added to the crowd following until the streets were packed and the ringing of footsteps filled the air.

 

Gabriel felt a nervous tension filling his grace, and he struggled to keep his footsteps confident and his chin held high. Sam walked behind him, his tail and his hand wrapped tightly around his brother’s, as his eyes flashed in the night. Dean walked just as confidently, a vicious smile spread across his face as his free hand kept track of Castiel. Castiel’s wing’s held tightly to his back as his hand danced over his sword in anticipation. He kept his eyes carefully forward, feeling shy under the protective gazes of his brothers and sisters.

 

Soon they reached the wide doors shutting the building off from the rest of heaven. Gabriel gave a wide gesture and the doors opened. The angels flooded in, filling the hallways of the monastery close to bursting as every angel in heaven joined Gabriel’s stand.

 

Gabriel found Michael standing near the main alter in the back of the building. He was flanked on all sides by the beautiful hues of colored glass. He did not turn at their approach, and did not glance up as the room filled with soldiers.

 

“Michael,” Gabriel spoke softly. All of the angels around him stilled.

 

“Brother,” Michael answered, finally turning to face him. His eyes quickly took in the crowd gathered around them. “I see you’ve brought company.” His eyes came to rest on Dean and Castiel. “Is this why you have come, Gabriel?”

 

Castiel’s eyes narrowed as he was flooded with the memory of the pain when Michael had attempted to kill him. He saw Gabriel flinch and knew the archangel felt it too. “What you did was unspeakable, Michael.” His voice boomed in the silence of the room.

 

Around him Castiel felt as other angels sent their grace to caress his, reassuring themselves of his presence. Castiel did his best to keep his grace calm under the onslaught.

 

“Unspeakable? I was fully justified. You are the one who disobeyed by interfering. Bringing him back, brother? How long did you think you could keep it from me?”

 

“You went too far.” Gabriel spat. “No angel deserves that pain; that anguish! You’ve lost your way, Michael.”

 

Michael laughed. “Listen to yourself, Gabriel. Talking about what the soldiers _deserve_. They don’t deserve anything.” His eyes quickly darted across the assembled angels who’d managed to fill the room and then out into the hall beyond where the rest stood. “You’ve gotten them all dressed up as if they’re going off to war, but who among them would ever be willing to stand up? What do you think you’ll accomplish? Are you hoping to take over, Gabriel? Is that what this is all about?”

 

A deep frown flickered over Gabriel’s face, but before he could speak, Castiel moved forward. “I will stand.”

 

Gabriel’s hand flashed out instantaneously, dragging him back.

 

“No,” he growled. “You will not.” His eyes fell heavily upon all those around him. “None of you will.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes met Michael’s as he spoke, his hands gently coaxing Castiel to move behind him. “You’ve been hurt enough little one,” he whispered. Castiel’s eyes dropped as he obediently stepped back. Gabriel ran a hand down his face soothingly and a smile twitched at his mouth as Sam and Dean wrapped themselves around Castiel protectively, and a few of the angels standing around him wrapped their hands into his robes, fingers ducking between the breaks of his armor to press against his skin. Gabriel nodded to them thankfully. When he turned back to his brother, Michael was standing so close they were almost touching. “You know, there’s a reason I’m alone at the top.”

 

His fists flew before Gabriel could react, grabbing onto the top of his breastplate and all but throwing him over his shoulder.

 

Gabriel’s wings snapped out and he landed gracefully, his feet barely touching the floor before he was launching himself back at Michael.

 

As they fought, Gabriel did his best to stop himself from colliding with any of the walls where he knew the soldiers stood watching. Occasionally he allowed himself to be hit by a worse blow to avoid falling into their audience.

 

Michael caught on quickly and started deliberately throwing his shots to put the watchers in jeopardy, knowing Gabriel would allow himself to take the hit. If he went toe to toe with his brother Michael wasn’t quite sure who would win. It was possible he would, especially given his brother’s soft nature, but he didn’t know for sure. Ensuring Gabriel would take a particularly hard blow helped guarantee his eventual victory.

 

He was expecting Gabriel to cave quickly, his brother had never been one for fighting, but Gabriel kept coming back, he kept rising and lashing out with a fierce determination. Eventually Michael began to feel himself slip, and he _knew_ he needed to end this _now._

 

His eye caught on Sam and he slowly started to grin. He positioned himself perfectly, and when Gabriel caught him under the chin he sailed back exactly as planned, and quickly struck, not back at his brother, but at the tall demon. He was lucky that he caught Sam unaware. He tore a small dagger out of the demon’s grasp, and pressed it tightly to his jugular.

 

The room froze.

 

After a moment Gabriel spoke. “Your fight is with me.”

 

“No it isn’t Gabriel. You’ve made this fight between everyone.”

 

“Fuck you,” Sam growled. He gasped sharply as the blade began to press in.

 

“Do not speak unless spoken to,” Michael chided. “So what will it be, Gabriel? Are you ready to back down now?”

 

An expression crossed his brother’s face that Michael had never seen before. His face lost its edge and instead became blank as his eyes darkened.

 

There was no moment in between the seconds. One instant Gabriel watched him from across the room, the next his wrist was caught in his brother’s grip, the knife frozen between them.

 

For a moment Michael felt his heart begin to rise, and then instinct kicked in. Gabriel’s strength was bent to forcing the blade back and away from his demon’s throat, so Michael allowed himself to follow it, the knife quickly leaving Sam’s skin to bury itself within Gabriel’s.

 

His brother’s eyes widened in shock, and then softened in relief. Michael felt a twinge of anger at the expression, and twisted the knife painfully. Gabriel followed its path, falling to his knees, but his expression remained the same.

 

Michael jerked the knife back, staining his robes red as Gabriel fell to the floor. He had only seconds to contemplate his victory before Sam was on him. Michael growled in annoyance and threw him off. Sam hit the far wall, groaning as he collapsed on the floor.

 

Something slick moved up under his armor, sliding easily under his skin. Michael’s hands quickly flew to the injury and caught the hand slowly twisting the blade within him. “I’ve been waiting a while to do that.” Dean growled.

 

Michael swallowed his pain and dipped his shoulder to knock the demon off balance. He caught Dean’s chest and trapped his arm, throwing him backwards.

 

Dean went all of three feet before his tail whipped out and caught Michael’s neck, pulling himself back in. His hands moved quickly, cutting Michael’s face and neck while his tail kept itself firmly wrapped around the archangel’s wrist, keeping his hand down.

 

He got in a few good hits before Michael managed to tear away.

 

Dean looked around quickly and jumped to an onlookers side. The angel was a tall female with flowing crimson hair; she also happened to have two elegant silver blades strapped to her side.

 

Michael was so distracted by the demon in front of him for a moment all he could do was stare in confusion when a slick feeling coated his back. Sam grinned and ducked the blow Michael aimed at him, distracting him from Dean’s next attack.

 

Sam and Dean worked together easily and fluidly, their movements complementing each other without effort. Dean’s blows were aimed at his extremities, distracting his attention as Sam worked towards his core, quickly removing the archangel’s armor.

 

Michael worked hard to avoid them both, and he growled in frustration every time a blow landed. Soon a heavy clang indicated the heavy metal dropping from his chest, and his robes lost their pristine white shimmer, and instead took on a dark red tone as they lay across his arms and chest in ribbons.

 

Michael redoubled his efforts, though he struggled dividing his attention between the brothers. Every time he focused on the one attempting to deal him the heavier blow, the other took up the slack, and he received another injury. After a while, he began receiving more injuries than he could heal, and the cuts remained for longer periods of time.

 

Sam met Dean’s eye met over Michael’s shoulder, and they both nodded slightly in understanding. Dean purposely allowed himself to begin falling back under Michael’s onslaught.

 

As he’d hoped, the archangel took advantage of his weaker position, and worked hard to trap him against the wall. When Michael grinned and went in for the killing blow, Dean’s eyes flicked black and he quickly gripped the archangel’s wrist and spun their bodies, reversing their positions. Sam leapt forward, grabbing Michael’s throat and pinning him to the wall as Dean restrained his hands.

 

The grin that spread over Dean’s face was nothing less than murderous. For a moment he considered saying something, but nothing seemed fitting; he looked at his brother. Sam resembled the demon he’d once been down in the pit; he moved forward, and deliberately licked a wide stripe of blood off Michael’s neck. “Guess this is good bye, angel boy.”

 

Michael’s lip twitched up in a snarl as he watched Sam toss the knife, easily catching it as he hefted it above his shoulder. He brought the knife down hard, and the room froze.

 

Michael blinked, confused that the blade had not completed its decent. Sam and Dean wore an identical expression. Together they looked at the knife, then Sam’s hand and down to his wrist where another hand was firmly clamped down, preventing any movement. They followed it up an arm back to blue eyes. “Cas?” Dean asked quietly, his eyes returning to their normal green shade. After a quick glance at Sam, his eyes did the same.

 

“You can’t.” Castiel said, his eyes fixed firmly on Michael’s. The archangel wore an unreadable expression.

 

“We can, Cas. Quite easily. Let go.” Sam said soothingly.

 

“No.”

 

“Cas.” Dean began. He cast an eye over his hold on Michael, wondering if he could spare a hand to catch Castiel’s with. After a moment he gave up, and his tail slowly wrapped around the angel’s arm and wrist. He did not try to pull Castiel away, or hold him in place, he merely applied a gentle pressure. “We need to do this.”

 

“No, Dean. Killing him solves nothing.”

 

Dean scoffed. “He seemed to think it solved something _when he did it to you._ ”

 

“But I did not die.”

 

Dean’s eyes went black, but Sam cut off his brother before he could utter a word. “What’s wrong, Cas?” He asked while slowly checking the angel’s grip for weakness.

 

“He is my brother.”

 

“….I hate to break this to you, Cas.” Dean said slowly. “But your brother is a dick.”

 

Castiel nodded. “But I still love him.”

 

For just a moment, Sam and Dean’s hold slackened in disbelief. Michael smirked and moved to seize his opening. Castiel was on him instantly, forcing him back so hard the wall cracked. Sam tried not to laugh. “I thought you said you loved him.”

 

“Doesn’t mean he trusts him,” Dean said with a small smile tugging at his lips.

 

“So does that mean you changed your mind?” Sam asked hopefully.

 

“You will not kill him.”

 

Sam frowned at Dean, the _he’s your angel_ lying unspoken between them. The moment was interrupted as another hand came between them, coming to rest on Michael’s neck.

 

“Gabriel?” Sam asked, his eyes quickly searching for the knife wound. He was pleased to see despite the blood stained robes, the injury had healed.

 

Castiel turned a mistrustful eye on Gabriel and carefully moved to keep himself between the archangels.

 

Gabriel moved closer, pressing his hands firmly. Michael eyed him defiantly. Dean quietly tugged on Castiel’s arm. Castiel shot him a quick glare, refusing to be moved. “Please, Cas.” Dean whispered, removing himself from Michael entirely, and wrapping himself around his angel. He pressed his nose to Castiel’s ear. “Gabriel will take care of this, come with me.”

 

Castiel hesitated, his hands twitching against Michael as he debated wrapping his hands up in Dean’s warmth.

 

Sam shot Gabriel a brief look and he slipped his hands underneath Castiel’s, moving to restrain Michael the same way. Gabriel carefully removed his hands and wrapped Castiel in his arms. Castiel went with him slowly. Gabriel locked eyes with Dean and transferred the angel to his arms.

 

Dean nodded thankfully and walked Castiel out from in between the archangels. He stopped after a few feet, leaving them close enough to intervene if they needed to, and then petted his hands soothingly through Castiel’s wings. Gabriel smiled tightly at him.

 

Michael sneered. “So you’ll let them fight your battles for you and then step in to deal the final blow?”

 

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “The little one requested you not die, and I will honor that.”

 

For a moment Michael looked uncertain.

 

“You have grown distant from the flock, Michael. You’ve stopped being a member of this family.”

 

Michael frowned at Gabriel’s words, and his eyes darted to the angel’s silently filling the room. All of their eyes were hard. He locked gazes with two. “You,” he barked. “Restrain him.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes never left his, and the angels never moved. “So you’ve turned them against me.” Michael growled.

 

“You turned them against yourself.” Gabriel answered, his voice just as hard. “Sam,” he said, nodding at his hands. Sam instantly took his place, pushing Michael back. Gabriel’s hands slipped in opposite directions, one coming up to Michael’s throat, the other dropping to his waist. “I want you to know, the little one you hurt is the only reason I’m sparing your life. You need to learn what it is to love and what it is to hold someone above yourself.”

 

“Really,” Michael drawled. He tried to keep his tone disinterested, but a spark of fear in his eyes gave him away. “And how do you intend to do that?”

 

“I love you Michael. And I look forward to seeing you when you come back.”

 

Michael’s brow furrowed.

 

Gabriel pushed and a bright light that bordered on crimson filled the room. When the light faded, Gabriel caught Michael’s body as he fell. He ran a hand through his hair carefully. “I’ll see you soon, brother.”

 

The air in the room seemed to lighten instantly, a happy murmur spreading out to the hall where others could not see. Gabriel smiled at Sam as his tail caught at his wrist. Dean pulled Castiel into a fierce kiss.

 

“What happens now?” Sam asked, pride dancing in his eyes.

 

“He will live on Earth.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Until I come for him. The humans will teach him to love again.”

 

“Hopefully.”

 

“No,” Gabriel said, a soft smile touching his face. “They will.”

 

“What happens here?” Dean asked, resting his forehead against Castiel’s, sighing happily when long flight feathers danced up his legs.

 

Gabriel smiled. “Here? Things will get better.”

 

\----------

 

From an outside perspective nothing in Heaven changed. But inside… the air was almost lighter. For once a solider was not forced to love only his garrison, but was able to love all of his brothers.

 

The angels still spent a large part of their time flying drills, but pressure of being forced had been lifted. Now drills became more in sync as the angel’s flew competitively against other garrisons, as each tried to out do the other. Gabriel also gave them more time to watch Earth through their pools of light, doing what they could to help the humans through their daily struggle. The archangel kept a careful eye on Michael as he lived his life on Earth.

 

Every angel would agree that life was better.

 

Gabriel spent more time doing the administrative work that came with being an archangel now that Michael was gone, but his brothers visited him often, and he still spent as much time as he could flying with them as he taught Sam how to fight in the air. Occasionally Gabriel visited Michael’s rooms, and watched over the still body the archangel’s grace once filled. He made sure the body was positioned comfortably, and was ready for when his brother returned.

 

When Castiel finished his duties for the day he took Dean to the gardens. Dean lead him through the pools and through all of the other angels, until the reached a secluded area. Dean looked around carefully to make sure they were alone, and pushed Castiel back against a tree.

 

The angel laughed and spread his wings out to catch the sun as the demon curled up in his arms. Dean purred as Castiel ran a hand threw his hair. In retaliation he ran his hands through his angel’s wings, biting his throat as Castiel arched languidly under his hands. “Mm. Dean?”

 

“Yeah, Cas?”

 

They both looked up as a shadow passed over them. “Get a room, you two,” Sam groaned.

 

Dean grinned, unabashed, and moved across Castiel’s body to curl into his side. The angel smiled and reached out, taking Sam’s hand and pulling him down. Sam rolled his eyes, smiling good naturedly, and rested his head on Castiel’s shoulder, wrapping his tail around his brother. Dean looked around. “Where’s Gabriel?”

 

Sam smiled and closed his eyes, settling into Castiel’s feathers. “He’ll be back soon.”

 

Dean frowned. “He’s gone? And you didn’t go with him?”

 

“He said Michael needed a friend. I didn’t want him to think he had competition.”

 

Castiel brushed a kiss to Sam’s forehead. “That’s very kind of you.”

 

Sam scrubbed at the mark, making a face as his brother laughed. Dean shoved Sam’s arm. “The angel’s are rubbing off on you.”

 

“Oh shut up.” Sam grumbled, settling back down.

 

\----------

 

Michael heard his mother calling for him, but he turned his eyes back to the lake, pretending that he couldn’t hear her. The sun was setting over the water, and he wanted to wait for the fireflies to come out.

 

“Michael?”

 

The voice was getting louder. Michael bit his lip, resisting the urge to call back.

 

There was a small crash behind him. Michael whipped around. A small boy covered in mud and leaves grinned at him from the ground. His legs were tangled in a bush, and he was up to his elbows in discarded rocks. “Hi!” He said happily.

 

Michael’s brows furrowed, and he pointedly looked back over the water. The boy behind him grunted and noisily disentangled himself, the shifting of rocks signaling when he finally stood. The boy brushed at his stained shirt and pants, and then moved to sit down at Michael’s side. He held out a dirty hand. “I’m Gabriel.”

 

Michael stared at the hand. He was surprised when instead of taking the hint and leaving, Gabriel laughed and crossed his arms over his knees, bumping their shoulders companionably. “We could be friends you know.”

 

Michael frowned and eyed him critically. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

 

Gabriel’s smile softened.

 

Michael quickly looked away. “Look,” he said, pointing over the water. Gabriel dutifully followed his gaze. “The fireflies are coming out.”

 

“Want to catch them?” Gabriel asked.

 

Michael tried to hide his smile, but Gabriel’s clear laugh let him know he failed. Michael thrust a hand out. “I’m Michael.”

 

“I know,” Gabriel said, shaking his hand solemnly. “Come on!” He changed his grip and began tugging Michael along behind him. Michael struggled for a moment before giving in and following the crazy boy. Neither paid any mind to the clear voices calling their names into the night.

 

After they’d both claimed as many of the bright insects as they could, releasing them as soon as they were caught, Michael stopped to catch his breathe. His mother had stopped calling for him a while ago, but he was sure that she hadn’t forgotten about him. Gabriel ran up beside him, panting.

 

“I should go home,” Michael said.

 

“Okay,” Gabriel replied, his eyes shining. “Want to play again tomorrow?”

 

Michael frowned, considering Gabriel thoughtfully. He still hadn’t figured out why the boy was so insistent on being his friend. Finally he came to a decision and stuck out his hand. “Deal?”

 

Gabriel’s teeth flashed in the light as he caught Michael’s hand. “Deal.”

 

“Bye!” Michael called as he turned and ran into the trees behind them, jumping over logs and carefully climbing over bushes, following the secret path he’d discovered long ago. When he burst through the final trees, he saw his house, the backyard illuminated by a bright light. He saw his mother’s silhouette in the kitchen.

 

He ran up to the back door and stepped into the house, sighing as he fell into the embrace of the warm air and the delicious smells of whatever his mother had cooked for dinner. “Mom?” He called.

 

“Hello, dear.” Cindy answered, walking into the room. “Take off your shoes, your father should be home soon, and dinner’s almost ready.”

 

He eyed her carefully. “You’re not mad?”

 

She laughed, walking back into the kitchen. “I’ve known you all your life, darling, I know when to expect you to come home.”

 

Michael grinned, shrugging off his jacket and hurrying to the table. As his mother set a plate down in front of him she paused and touched his face. “Why are you so happy, Michael?”

 

His smile spread as he thought of Gabriel. “I made a friend.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

Michael nodded happily. They both looked up as the door opened, and a large man stepped into the room, kissing his wife and brushing a hand through his son’s hair before he hung up his coat and hat.

 

As they ate, Michael launched into a story about the strange boy, his arms dancing wildly as he described the way they’d met, and the fun they had catching fireflies. “He wants to play again tomorrow,” he concluded, his head nodding seriously. “We shook on it.”

 

“Well, good.” Jacob said, his eyes jumping to his wife. “Maybe you should have him come over for dinner.”

 

Michael froze, suddenly uncertain.

 

Cindy touched his arm. “You don’t have to, Michael. But if you _want_ to, we’d love to have him over.”

 

Michael nodded slowly.

 

The topic moved on to other things, and afterward Michael excused himself to his room. As he looked out the window watching the stars, he thought about Gabriel, and all the fun they could have tomorrow. It was strange. They’d just met, and already it felt like he’d found his brother. Like he wouldn’t be alone any more. His heart felt light in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the happiness building in his soul.

 

-end-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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